


the holy kingdom

by CinderScoria



Series: Endgame [5]
Category: Escape the Night (Web Series)
Genre: (it's me your fave will definitely cry), (spoiler alert), Adventure?, Multi, SEQUEL TIME HERE WE GO, Your Fave Will Probably Cry, bc we have virtually the same plot apparently, but don't worry, everyone lives... for now :), healing is still happening but Slower Now, magical shit is still happening but Faster Now, multi-dimensional disaster plot, so expect violence and mayhem and a whole lotta angst l o l, the survivors save their friends, this is less contemporary and more... uh, this is not season four canon (obvi) altho there might be some crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2020-06-26 20:05:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19775449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinderScoria/pseuds/CinderScoria
Summary: A price.A sacrifice.How far would you go to save your friends? What consequences are worth cheating the game where the stakes are the fate of the world?The survivors are about to find out...





	1. prologue

**prologue**

Anthony’s fond of Eva Gutowski.

He’s seen a side of her most haven’t witnessed, and he considers that a special privilege—more so than being chosen to house the empty coffins of almost two dozen beloved Youtubers, safeguarding their location from their tens of millions of accumulated followers for the sake of their family’s privacy. Eva Gutowski, to the world, is a free-spirited, excitable, genuine person. To her friends she’s fierce and guarded and protective.

To him, she’s a grieving child.

Anthony’s seen a lot of different mourners over the years he’s owned this cemetery, but he has a soft spot for this one. Sees her as his own kid, really, and has since he’d found her shivering in the rain the morning after jumping his fence and collapsing at her friend’s marker. He’d made her hot chocolate and let her cry and decided right then and there that he would never let another soul hurt her.

Tyler, by extension, has wormed his way into his circle as well from the moment she’d dragged him to this cemetery a month after his own slaughtering. He trusts them, both of them, so he’d said nothing as slowly, in ones or twos or threes, the survivors of the slaughterings all trickle in over the course of three months. He’d smiled at each new face that accompanied his kids, nodded as they were introduced—so normally, as if their names hadn’t been plastered literally everywhere in the wake of their return. He’d bitten his tongue on the concern climbing his throat. Something has changed. It feels like something is coming. And for some odd reason… well, he can’t help but worry.

But he says nothing, when nine of them show up the day before Thanksgiving. He nods as they pass him. He doesn’t warn Eva, or Tyler, or any of their friends, of the danger he can  _ feel _ is coming.

And at the end of the day, when he goes to lock up and comes face to face with not the nine who’d went in, but twenty-two supposedly dead Youtubers, all strewn about their plots in unconscious—but inexplicably  _ alive— _ heaps, he somehow knows in his heart that he’ll never get to.

-

“Ball’s in your court now.”

The girl wrinkles her ruddy, freckled face, telling J exactly what she thinks of  _ that _ assessment. J laughs. “You know what I mean.”

“It’s not my court, though,” she grumbles, a light North Irish brogue dancing across her words.

“No, but  _ your _ pet project.”

“I fear your faith in her is misplaced. Also me, probably.”

“She’s got this.” The younger girl doesn’t look convinced, and J sighs. “R. She’s good, really good. And you’re not alone in this. They’re gonna pull it off.”

“No, I know that,” R says, biting her lip. “I just… Haven’t you felt it slipping?”

J’s face darkens. “Yes.”

“So how can you say—”

“Because I have faith in them,” they tell her, firm and true. “I  _ know _ them. You do too.”

R hums, noncommittal and anxious, tucking a bit of dark hair behind her ear and then stuffing her hands in the oversized gray hoodie she wears, the one that doesn’t quite contain her ruined, bullet hole-ridden dark gray wings. “You know,” she says, changing the subject, “he really didn’t like that you reached out to Matt.”

J grins a sudden, wicked grin. “Oh, I know.”

“That’s not incentive to do it  _ again,” _ R scolds, but her smile takes the sting out of it.

“Not even if I take you with me?”

R pretends to think about it, and J adds, “We can see Connie.”

“All right, deal,” she decides. “But only if we don’t get caught.”

“Prime will never know,” J declares. R grins at them, and the two return to quietly observing the crystal ball.

-

Somewhere, buried deep—but not nearly deep enough to keep him contained—the Cursed God stirs at a curious addition to his collection.

And he smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's an ultra short prologue for y'all to celebrate the premiere! some things to note:
> 
> \- I won't be "starting" this until August (1st, my birthday!), but I wanted to give a tiny little tease bc uhhh I'm Hyped  
> \- that Daniel fic is coming I promise lmao I need to explain some missing things before I really launch into this :o  
> \- updates are now on Thursdays!
> 
> happy theorizing! :D


	2. Shane Dawson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Seven solve a series of clues to recover their first Youtuber, and discover that this endeavor might be a little more complicated than they thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings! just fun!

It takes Joey a moment to recognize the house they're in, and when he does the dread that floods him makes him want to throw up.

Eva clutches Oli's hand. "No."

"I don't—I don't understand," Joey stammers.

“This is—” Eva looks at him, a bit wild-eyed. “It’s your fucking house.”

“It’s not  _ my  _ house,” Joey snaps.

“It’s the house,” Oli stammers. “This is your house, Joey—”

“It’s not my house!”

“Guys?” Matt asks, sounding appropriately nervous. “What’s going on? Where are we?”

“This is where our slaughtering happened.” 

Eva’s voice is tight. The seven of them stand in a circle in the foyer, and Joey shakes upon recognizing it. He'd stood there on that staircase and greeted his friends… ten of them, and only two of them came out alive.

Andrea, sensing his distress, puts a hand on his shoulder. He takes a deep breath. That's why he's here now, with the other survivors. To get them back. To save them.

Tyler, Andrea, Matt, and Nikita all gaze around the house, fresh-eyed and not nearly as affected as the original survivors. Joey, for his part, turns and tries the door handle, and hisses when he finds it locked. No key. Naturally. The lock itself is made of several intricate pieces, a couple dozen or so keyholes spread out in a spiral that he wouldn’t be able to figure out if he tried.

“It worked, then,” Matt says, his voice taking on that puzzle-solving quality so present during his slaughtering. “We must be inside the crystal.”

“Then where is everyone?” Nikita demands, turning in a full circle.

Joey and Matt look at each other. They hadn’t gotten this far when they went through Iridessa’s notes.

“Well,” Matt reasons, “there are twenty-two of them, are there twenty-two rooms in this house?”

Joey’s already shaking his head. “There’s like, twelve max. I mean, unless they’re doubled up…”

“Somehow I doubt it’s that easy,” Nikita says dryly.

“Maybe we should just look around, then?” Andrea suggests, only to be cut off by Tyler as he holds up a piece of paper.

“Hey, look what I found on the grandfather clock.”

Joey’s heart sinks as the six gather around him, reading it over. It’s a square piece of paper with the letters PPOS on it.

Matt frowns at it. “This looks familiar.”

“There’s another one,” Andrea says, pointing at a small clock on a desk in the foyer. The letters CTI are printed on this one, taped to the glass where the 3 would be.

“Oh I get it,” Matt exclaims, “the numbers on the clock correlate—”

“—to where the letters go in the sentence,” Eva finishes, clapping her hands together. “We need to find all the clocks.”

And from there it’s a mad scramble from the dining room to the study, everyone shouting triumphantly when they find more clues and bringing them to Matt and Joey, who have each piece spread out on the coffee table in the sitting room and are putting them together like a jigsaw puzzle.

It  _ is _ familiar, Joey thinks with grim bitterness, watching everyone prove to each other why they were the ones to survive their slaughtering. He wishes that for once this wasn’t just some game where they gamble with their lives. If they have to vote each other into a death challenge, he’s going to throw a fit. He came here to save his lost friends, not lose the ones he still has.

Not that the universe ever gave a damn about he wants.

“I think that’s it,” Oli reports as the others gather around the table.

“Yep,” Matt says, finalizing his arrangement. They all sit back and stare at the ominous message.

_ “Every action must have an equal and opposite reaction,” _ Nikita reads aloud. “That’s not fucking terrifying or anything.”

Matt frowns. “It’s Newton’s third law of motion.”

“Oh my god, you are  _ such _ a nerd.”

“What do we do with it?” Tyler wonders. “Usually if we did something right a thing pops open or a bad guy jumps out and tries to kill us.”

“I’d really rather not be chased down again, I am  _ not _ a runner,” Andrea complains.

Oli is frowning to himself. “Joey, don’t you have that—that thing in the library? The ball thing?”

Joey stares at him, baffled, but Matt perks up. “A Newton’s cradle?”

“Uh, maybe?” The Brit demonstrates with his hands, swinging one into the other and launching it in a parabola up a few inches and back down again. Matt snaps his fingers and points, practically bouncing.

“That’s it, that’s it!”

He takes off, maybe a little too excited to be doing Science, and Joey can’t help but smile a little to himself. Well, if Matt’s having fun, that’s something at least. He’s been smiling more, and seems to have more energy. Joey’s only been back in contact with him for about a month now, but the difference between the Matt they rescued from the Society and the Matt today is monumental. He’s made leaps and bounds in terms of recovery.

They trail Matt to the library, where he waits—more or less patiently—for them to gather at the desk before he reaches for the Newton’s cradle: a little wooden structure the size of Joey’s forearm holding five metal balls on strings.

“Watch,” he says, holding one out. When he lets go, it makes this wonderful clacking sound as the first ball hits the rest, and then the one on the opposite end goes flying into the air.

As soon as it connects, one of the books on the shelves is lit in a blue glow, drawing their attention. Nikita goes over, having to stand on her toes to reach the shelf—she’d gone with running sneakers this time, better prepared this time. As soon as she pulls the book from its spot, the light disappears.

She looks at it. “The Legend of King Arthur?”

They flip through it, and the passage where a young Arthur pulls the sword from the stone is bookmarked with a note.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Eva murmurs as they crowd over it. Joey reads it aloud.

_ “Dear Leywalkers, _

_ I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your arrival didn’t go unnoticed as you had hoped. You’ve now entered my territory, and if I chose to, I could have you crushed in seconds. However, your integrity and determination has impressed me, and you should know by now how much I love games. So I propose a new one.” _

“Great,” Andrea mutters under her breath. Tyler shushes her.

_ “You have until sundown to save your friends,” _ Joey reads. _ “You must have all twenty-two, or they all stay. In addition, there are twenty-two keys that unlock the exit to the outside world, one hidden in each room of my little prison. Should you fail to escape by sundown, I will crush the crystal and everything in it, including you. _

_ “Good luck, little Leywalkers. I’m rooting for you.” _

He looks up at them. “Signed, the Cursed God.”

“Fucker,” Nikita snarls.

“He knew we were coming?” Tyler asks, furrowing his brow. “How?”

“Not entirely surprising,” Matt mutters. “I have this theory—”

They all groan, and he manages to look only a little bit affronted. “I’m serious,” he protests. “The story goes that the Cursed God had killed all the Leywalkers from the first war and leeched their magic, right? Except for Iridessa. Iridessa told me that even locked away, he still has influence over the land.”

“Yeah,” Andrea says, remembering. “She thinks he’s the one who tried to drown Eva, with that tidal wave he sent.”

Matt hesitates a moment. “Actually… I think he’d been trying to drown  _ Oli.” _

Oli starts. “What? Me? Why?”

“I mean, it’s just a theory—”

“A Game Theory?” Nikita chimes in with a smirk.

He rolls his eyes. “Listen. He knows we’re Leywalkers, that much is obvious. He doesn’t know  _ who _ we are as people, but I’m betting, if we’re in a power struggle with him right now, with some of the magic from the leylines flowing from him to us—or I guess, to  _ you, _ since I should have all of mine—he’d be able to sense our auras the way Andrea does.”

Eva’s frowning, trying to follow. “So he would’ve known I’m the Well, that I can breathe underwater, is what you’re saying,” she realizes.

“Exactly.” He shrugs. “Besides, the tidal wave didn’t come out of nowhere. It was caused by—”

“An earthquake,” Oli murmurs, a hand coming up to clutch at his chest. “That’s why it hurt.”

Joey heaves a sigh. “We don’t even have all our magic?”

“Probably not,” Matt muses. “But you  _ will. _ That’s why it’s been accelerating for you guys these past few months, and why the Cursed God has upped his game trying to, uh, kill us.”

“Then why not just kill us now?” Nikita demands. “We’re in his stupid crystal, he can crush us at any time, why wait?”

Matt points at himself, and then at Joey. “Oh yeah,” Joey says, understanding. “He needs us to get out.”

“Or for us to break the rules one more time,” Matt says grimly. “Either way, this is a lose-lose. That’s why J told me to decide if this is worth it.”

“Well?” Eva says, drawing their eyes. “Is it?”

They look at each other. They knew that coming in here would be dangerous, and the end result might be ugly. This is just confirmation, really.

Matt straightens. “I’m getting Ro.”

“I’m getting Manny,” Nikita agrees quietly.

Tyler smiles. “I’m getting Alex.”

“We’re getting all of them out,” Joey says, locking eyes with each of his friends. “And we’re doing it before sundown.”

They all glance at the clock on the mantle. Still synced to the outside world, the time is nearing 10:30 in the morning, the light streaming cheerily into the hallway from the window above the door.

Tyler sighs. “Well, at least we can see now.”

****-** **

The next clue stumps them a bit, until Andrea points out that there’s a suit of armor in the foyer. “Maybe we need to find a stone to fit the sword into?” she suggests.

“Oh,” Tyler says, remembering, “I saw a big boulder on the dining room table!” He looks a bit sheepish. “I was wondering what it was doing there.”

“That must be it,” Matt says, and the seven head there in a tense silence. Nikita carries the sword—she got to it first as they passed through the foyer, and no one is willing to challenge a blade-wielding Nikita, so she keeps it for herself—and has to pull out a chair to stand on so she can reach the top of the misshapen boulder smack dab in the middle of the dining table. She holds it with both hands, posing, popping her ass out and winking at Andrea when the psychic giggles at the sight, before sliding the sword blade-first into the slot at the top of the boulder.

It  _ shinks _ into place, clicking and locking, and behind them the cupboard swings open, glowing a faint blue.

Joey gasps. “Oh, secret passageway!”

Eva gives him a strange look. “You didn’t know that opened up?”

“Well this isn’t my house,” he says, snippier than he’d intended. “I don’t have a freaking rock on my dining room table, Eva.”

“Solid point,” she says, and then smirks when Joey realizes that was a pun.

Matt’s already through the door. The others follow, Oli taking up the rear as they travel the short little hallway into a much bigger room that shouldn’t exist according to the floorplans of the house Joey’d received when he’d first been sucked into this whole mess.

“Oh, this isn’t encouraging,” Tyler mutters. 

The room is split down the middle by a deep, dark pit that seems to go down forever. On the other side is a big blue button on a podium and a door that it presumably opens, as well as a wide, heavy wooden plank laid out on the floor. There’s no way across to the other side… except for the big, artificial rock wall on the left hand side of the room.

“Wow, I hate this,” Andrea says, tone mildly surprised at this turn of events.

Matt has his arms crossed over his chest. “So… I’m assuming only one of us has to get across.”

“They can push the plank across and we can walk,” Joey agrees. “Uh, I’m terrible at rock climbing, though?”

They all look at each other. Eva sighs and raises her hand. “I’ll do it.”

“I’ll help,” Oli says quietly.

“Oli—”

“You’re going to need someone to spot you,” he says over her. “We’re going to be free climbing that thing. One slip and that’s it.” He smiles, the expression a little embarrassed. “I was going to volunteer to be anchor anyway.”

She purses her lips, clearly not liking this idea, but even she knows you’re supposed to climb with a partner.

Tyler is hopping from foot to foot, looking around. “Is there any kind of rope we can use to help you guys?” he frets.

“Not that I know of,” Joey admits, turning to head back into the dining room. “We can check—”

He stops short, gaping at the closed door at the end of the little tunnel. “Oh,” he says, voice faint. “I guess we’re locked in?”

“No way to go but forward,” Matt sighs.

“Unfortunate,” Andrea remarks.

Oli reaches out and squeezes Eva’s hand. “We can do this,” he says.

She stares him down. Eventually, she squeezes his back, and then they release their grip and approach the wall.

It’s unlike anything Joey’s ever seen before. He didn’t even know rock walls could go sideways. Not only that, but the wall itself mimics an actual cliffside, with lips and crevasses in addition to the multi-colored hand- and footholds. It looks goddamn impossible to climb, frankly.

Eva stands where she is for a long time, just studying the thing and mapping out her route. Oli does the same, eyeing the holds on the lower side, while she surveys the ones up top. Then the two move, wordlessly, a seamless team as they stretch and then begin their climb.

Andrea watches with wide eyes. “They’re so in sync,” she murmurs as they make their way across it. “Their thoughts are so—they’re so  _ aware _ of each other, where they are, where they’re going. It’s wild.”

“Don’t read my mind, Andrea,” Eva calls over her shoulder, voice only a little strained.

“Sorry.”

Oli chuckles. “She’s just joking,” he tells her.

Andrea flushes some more. “Sorry,” she says again.

Eva gets to the lip and stops. Oli pauses beneath her, the two of them hanging over empty air, Oli almost literally dangling by just his fingertips with one toe wedged into a foothold at an awkward angle. The two have sweat pouring down their faces, Oli blinking rapidly as he waits for Eva to make a move.

Eva breathes deeply. Then she does—the  _ wildest _ thing Joey’s ever seen her do. She joins both hands on the same handhold and then pivots, swinging her body to the  _ outside _ so that her back is parallel to the wall instead. Her open hand smacks blindly into the wall again, looking for the handhold that will save her life, and the five back on solid ground hold their breaths as she finds it and then pivots another hundred eighty degrees, making it past the lip and turning her stomach to the wall again.

“Holy crap,” Matt breathes.

“That was freaking amazing!” Joey exclaims, jumping up and down.

Oli relaxes a smidge, and the two continue to climb. They're just past halfway when Oli slips a little, and then several things happen at once. He regains his footing but Eva, acting on pure protective instinct, lunges for him and misses, slipping entirely off the wall. She catches his elbow on the way down and he lets go of the wall with his right hand, allowing her to slide her grip down his arm until they clutch at each other's hand, slowing her descent enough for her to snag a handhold below him.

The two waver there in precarious balance as Oli strains to hold most of both of their weight. The others catch screams in their throat, everyone too terrified to make a noise should they break the two's concentration.

"God—" Eva gasps, straining in pain. "What do we do?"

"I can swing you to the other side," Oli offers, sounding out of breath. 

"It's too far!"

"I know," he says, "but we don't have much choice—"

Matt turns to Tyler. "Tyler, can you push Eva to the other side with a gust of air?"

Tyler wrings his hands. "I'm not good at that yet!"

"She's going to fall, Tyler," he tells him sharply.

Andrea touches Tyler's shoulder. "You can do it," she says, quietly.

"I trust you, Tyler," Eva calls from her position dangling from Oli's hand.

Oli doesn't wait. Eva lets go of the handhold and the Mountain swings her, to and fro, gently at first and then into as wide an arc as he can get while still maintaining his grip on the wall. "One," he grunts, "two, three—"

He lets go. Eva sails through the air. Tyler waits until she hits the apex before throwing out a hand. Wind gathers around his arm from elbow to fingertip, swirling around in a spiral until the gust catches Eva and carries her to the other side of the room—too powerful, sending her sliding into the far wall.

"Shoot—sorry!"

Eva sits up and pulls a hand through her hair, grinning like a maniac. "I'm never gonna get used to that," she says.

Oli is trembling on the wall, either out of exertion or out of relief that his partner is okay. "I gotta be honest," he admits, "I'm not sure I can finish this."

"You can," Eva says, leaving no room for argument. "And you're gonna."

"Yes dear," he jokes, and then, slowly and steadily, still shaking with every limb, he completes his route.

Clambering safely onto the floor on the other side of the room, he lies there on his back for a few seconds with Eva crawling over to him, panting and laughing a little to themselves out of the sheer relief of surviving a free climb.

“Come on, we gotta help the others," Eva says, rolling onto her stomach and getting to her knees.

“Five more minutes,” Oli groans. 

She pulls him to his feet, ignoring his protests. Oli hefts the plank, grinding his teeth at its weight as he slowly pushes it over the pit. Thankfully it’s long enough to make it all the way and then some, so there’s no worry over whether it’ll fall into the deep, dark abyss. Getting to the other side is another story though, and Joey peers over the side to see if he can get a glimpse of the bottom. He can’t.

“I hate this,” he complains.

“Just don’t look down,” Matt advises, following Nikita as their youngest scampers across the board.

Tyler gestures for Joey to go first, the two gays finding themselves as the last two across. Joey scowls at him, and the two do a quick round of rock, paper, scissors. Joey loses, much to his chagrin.

Balancing isn’t his strong suit, but Joey is no coward, so he steps onto the board and prays to every god he never believed in as he inches his way across. His friends wait for him on the other side, Oli reaching out and pulling him to safety once he’s close enough.

Tyler makes it as well, and finally the survivors are all on the other side. Andrea’s at the button, looking like she wants to push it, Nikita hovering next to her like she’s going to snipe the opportunity.

“We ready?” the Prophet asks.

Joey nods. Nikita mutters,  _ “Please _ don’t be a big scary monster behind this door,” as Andrea slams her fist onto the button.

The door slides open and behind it is Shane Dawson, smirking at them, still dressed in his 20s regalia, arms crossed over his chest.

“What the fuck took you guys so long?” he demands.

“Shane!” Joey launches himself at his friend. Shane catches him and hugs him so tight it feels like the breath is being crushed from his lungs. It’s not the type of hug that Joey’s used to from Shane, but then again, they haven’t seen each other in two and a half years, so it’s justified.

“Been waiting for you,” Shane says in his ear before releasing him, smiling fondly at him. Then he whacks him upside the head.

“Ow!” Joey glowers at him. “What was that for!”

“Trusting the Society,” Shane says with a small scowl. “And coming here when you knew damn well it was a trap!”

“You’ve been watching?”

“Yeah, what the fuck you think I’ve been doing the past two years?” Shane rolls his eyes. “That’s my punishment, apparently—observing and being unable to help.”

He smiles when Matt approaches, looking unexpectedly shy. “Except for you. Good to see you made it, Matt. I knew you would.”

“Almost didn’t,” Matt says solemnly.

“Yeah, but you figured it out in the end.” Shane turns, letting them into the room. “Come on in, we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

The room is huge and full of mirrors. The effect is dizzying—everywhere they look is a different face of reflective crystals, each with something happening in them. There’s a beanbag in the center of it that Shane throws himself down on, lounging there and smiling up at the Leywalkers.

"So here's the thing," he says cheerfully. "In each of these mirrors is a room that contains someone who died in each Game. They're, like, cells and shit so it's pretty awful in each of them. According to the Cursed God—yeah, I saw that too, I see  _ everything— _ each room has a key, too, that opens the door to the outside of this room and also coincidentally the crystal itself. Awesome, yay. One problem, naturally: there's  _ twenty-two _ of them and we have until, like, five PM, tops."

"Do you know where the one in this room is?" Matt asks.

"Nope," Shane says, popping the  _ p. _ "CG just came up with this game. I used to be able to go outside—no further than the gate, mind you, but still—but after you guys arrived, he locked me in here and set up those clues for you." He rolls his eyes. "Dramatic, but okay."

"Shoot." Matt pushes a hand through his hair. "So we have a very limited amount of time to find both our friends and the key to get out. Should we split up?"

"That's what I'm thinking," Shane offers. "I can tell you right now that some of them remember who they are and some of them don't, so it's probably smart to send the people who know them best after them."

"Good idea," Joey muses with a small frown. "So, what, should we go in order? Who died first and then second and then third?"

"Sounds like a solid plan to me," Nikita says, speaking up for the first time in a while. He frowns at her, but she doesn't meet his eyes. Matt also shoots her a look, but he seems to understand faster than Joey does.

"In the meantime," Shane says, popping back to his feet, "I'm gonna try to find that key, maybe prepare a place for the others to chill in while you guys go on your little scavenger hunt."

Oli smiles and clasps his shoulder. "It's good to see you, mate," he tells him.

Shane smiles at him, and Eva too. "I'm really glad you guys made it out," he says, sounding sincere for once. "I was so sure everyone was going to die, but you guys being Leywalkers just… makes everything right again, I think."

"I want to ask you so many questions," Matt says, and Shane shakes his head.

"After. We've got like seven hours, three rounds an hour. We can do this, you guys. Joey, I've seen you beat the Cursed God's game not once, not twice, but  _ three _ times. You can do it again."

They all look at each other, and then back at Shane, who grins at them, looking rather proud. Joey sighs. "Once more unto the breech, I guess," he says.

****-** **

Lauren Riihimaki looks up at the sky, strands of blonde hair blowing back in the breeze as she squints up at the sun.

“Captain?” asks a young woman next to her, drawing her attention. The girl’s dark eyes survey the Youtuber with some concern. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, smiling at her. “Just feel like something’s about to change, that’s all.”

“We’ll win,” says her second in command, her British accent saturated with confidence. “I know it.”

_ But what will we lose? _ Lauren wonders.

She doesn’t voice the thought, instead placing a hand on her shoulder. “We execute at sundown.”

All around her, her fellow knights raise their swords high into the air and shout in triumph. Lauren turns and eyes the castle on the hill in the distance, curling her fingers into her chest.

_ I’m coming, Alex. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYS DID YOU MISS ME
> 
> isn't it so funny that I posted the prologue the day ETN season four premiered and now I'm posting it technically the day the finale aired lollll
> 
> this is technically early on the west coast but idc I've been holding onto this chapter for DAYS and I want it OUT IN THE WORLD
> 
> anyway some ground rules!
> 
> 1\. updates are on Thursdays now, hope that's okay!  
> 2\. this is going to be quite different in tone than healing (isn't) linear, as it's more adventure and less contemporary, but no worries, I'll still be posting warnings at the beginning of each chapter!  
> 3\. this is going to look VERY FAMILIAR if you watched season four but rest assured that it's very different (I've had this plotted months before season four came out and I decided that I'm not gonna let it dictate how my story goes, so that's that on that)
> 
> I really hope you guys like this so let me know if it's going okay! also theories, yall know I love your theories <3
> 
> Up next: Matt and Oli deep dive for JC's room and confessions are had all around


	3. JC Caylen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oli and Matt tackle some fishy challenges to save JC from a watery grave - god I am so sorry for all the puns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very light trigger warning for facing triggers; not detrimental

“So Shane died first in your slaughtering,” Matt says, pointing at Oli and Eva. He looks to Tyler and Andrea. “Who died first in yours?”

“Lauren,” Tyler says immediately. “She went up against DeStorm.”

“Alex was  _ pissed,” _ Andrea recalls. “He cried when she didn’t come back, and basically declared war against DeStorm.”

“He got him in the end,” Tyler says, voice quiet.

Shane speaks up. “Lauren’s not in her room, though.”

The Seven turn to him, all chorusing,  _ “What?” _

He shrugs. “She hasn’t been for ages. I don’t know what happened. One second she was there in full vampire mode, the next time I looked—” He makes a  _ poof _ noise with his mouth and gestures with his hands like he was making an explosion. “Gone.”

“You don’t know where she is?” Joey demands.

Shane rolls his eyes. “I am trying to keep track of twenty-something Youtubers  _ and you guys _ to make sure no one’s gonna  _ die _ and it isn’t easy, okay!”

“We’ll figure that out when we get to it,” Matt reasons, holding up a calming hand. “For now let’s just move onto the next one. This crystal was designed to trap the souls in the slaughtering, right? She must be here somewhere, she would’ve gone home if she got out.”

“Unless she doesn’t know who she is,” Tyler frets. “Shane said some people remember and some don’t!”

They look at Shane, and he shrugs. Joey groans. “You are  _ so _ unhelpful.”

“Yeah, well, there’s only so much I can do while dead,” Shane deadpans, suddenly a bit icy.

Joey sobers a little, sighing, reigning his panic in. “You’re right,” he says. “I’m sorry. Let’s just find—JC, right? He’s next?”

He misses the quizzical look Nikita throws his way as Matt hesitates for a moment, before raising his hand. “I… I wanna go get him.”

Oli nods. “Me too,” he says, just beating out Andrea, who closes her mouth sullenly.

“You can go too,” Eva tells Andrea, frowning at her reaction.

“No, it’s fine,” she says, gaze years away as she stares at the far wall of the room of mirrors. “I haven’t spoken to Kian in a while and that’s kinda my fault, ditching him when he needed me. Not that that’s out of the norm for me.”

They all hear her self-deprecating bitterness, even though she’d said it in a joking way. Tyler touches her elbow. “It’s not too late to try to make up for it,” he tells her.

“No, I know.” She pulls herself up, smiling a little. “It’s fine. I’m just—not, ready, I think. You go, Oli, Matt.”

Matt and Oli exchange glances, Oli offering Matt a soft smile and Matt trying to conceal a grimace at some unpleasant thought or another.

Shane rocks on his feet, pretending he hadn’t noticed. “Well, if you’re going in there, I can show you which mirror is his. But we should go over some ground rules first.”

He leads them over to a small mirror in the corner, sitting on a side table. It’s about the size of a computer, round, and decorated with a rose gold frame imbedded with little swirls in the design. In the reflection they see not themselves, but JC, lying stretched out like a cat in a twelve-by-twelve glass box. Shane picks it up by its frame and turns it to Oli and Matt, who’d trailed immediately behind him.

“You just gotta touch the glass to go there,” he says, “but you have to find the key to get out of it. That’s why it’s pretty much impossible to escape.”

“Unless Lauren found her key,” Matt realizes. “So she must remember what happened.”

“Arguably,” Shane says, noncommittal. “Anyway, that’s why I haven’t visited anybody else’s room. Haven’t found my key yet. Also, I think all the keys together unlock the front door? The lock on the door is new, but it’s got twenty-two slots. Don’t gotta be a frog to make that leap.”

Andrea snorts, and then slaps a hand over her mouth.

“So we have to find JC, and then find the key,” Matt summarizes. “Got it. Anything else we should know?”

Shane frowns. “JC’s room is a little weird—okay so like. All the rooms are designed to more or less torture each person locked in it. Like mine, obviously, is getting to see everyone, but not being able to interact with them.”

“That’s awful,” Tyler murmurs.

“What’s JC’s?” Oli prods.

Shane looks apologetic. “I think it's an aquarium.”

“Oh,” Oli says. “Great.”

Eva reaches for Oli’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “I can go,” she offers, knitting her brow. “I’m pretty good with water, anyway.”

Oli shakes his head. “No, I can do it. I  _ should _ do it. JC’s my friend too, and… I need to get over this. Not because of the prophecy thing. Just… for me.”

She frowns a bit harder, and he brings their joined hands to his lips, kissing her fingers there. “Thank you for trying, though,” he says, and she smiles.

Shane holds the mirror out. “Good luck,” he tells Matt and Oli.

The two turn to each other, and then to the others. “Try to see if you can find Shane’s key,” Matt suggests. “That way when we split up we can do each round at the same time and, hopefully, end more or less at the same time.”

“You have an hour, tops,” Shane reminds them.

“We can do this,” Oli says, firm enough to convince both his friends and himself. He looks at Matt. “You ready?”

“Are  _ you?” _

Oli hums. “Not nearly. Let’s go.”

The two touch a finger to the glass.

****-** **

Oli rocks on his feet as he and Matt seem to just appear in… wherever they are. Matt reaches out a steadying hand, surprising Oli as he closes it on his shoulder. Then he remembers: Matt is the other touchy one in the group, possibly the most physically affectionate. Oli hasn’t been on the receiving end of it much, though. It’s kinda nice.

“You okay?” Matt asks, taking his hand from Oli’s shoulder when he nods. He looks around. “Where are we?”

“JC’s room, I guess,” Oli says, frowning at the space around them.

The room is massive, with high ceilings and metal walls. To the right is a huge, floor to ceiling fish tank lit from within—the only source of light in the room, though it’s more than sufficient, bathing the cavernous lobby with an eerie blue glow. Countless fish swim in the water, ignoring the two Leywalkers as they gaze around them, an iridescent rainbow in the sea of blue. On the left is a long counter with no one behind it, and beyond that are doors that presumably lead to outside—or would, if there was anything out there. The doors are glass and yet the outside world remains pitch black, darker than night, with nothing to see beyond the pane. On the other side of the room there are two massive metal doors with levers on either side and a note posted between them.

Oli points at the note. “That looks important.”

“Yep,” Matt agrees, and they approach the imposing, towering doors.

Matt reads aloud from the note.  _ “Beyond this point are two paths. One leads to your friend. The other leads to the key needed to escape. The doors must be opened at the same time for you to proceed.” _

“Do these open them, do you think?” Oli asks, wrapping a hand around the first lever. He tries to throw it the way one would throw a switch and is surprised at how heavy it is.

“Here, hold on,” Matt says, going to the other one. “We have to do it at the same time, right?”

“Yeah. One—”

“Two—”

“Three,” they say together, and both try to shove the switch down. It’s definitely easier with Matt wrenching his own lever, as if the two were connected to each other, but neither of them could throw the switch. They stop, panting, Matt shaking out his arm in pain.

“This is how I lost the challenge that killed me,” he jokes, and Oli frowns at him.

“Same, honestly,” he admits, “although I won mine.”

“And you still lost?”

“It was multiple challenges.” Oli thinks about it, and then adds, “Also, the ringleader cheated.”

“Ah.” Matt looks at the lever, studying it. “Well, you might be strong enough to get yours, but I’m definitely not strong man material.”

He keeps his voice light, but Oli frowns at the matter-of-fact deprecation in it. “Hey,” he says, drawing the older man’s attention. “You went up against Manny the first time, didn’t you? In the tournament?”

“Yeah, he crushed me,” Matt says dryly.

“Well, yes, but—it was a  _ tournament,” _ Oli reminds him. “Which makes you the second strongest of your group. Probably second strongest of us, too.” He grins. “Next to me, of course.”

“Oh.” Matt averts his gaze, running a hand through his hair, looking a bit bashful. “I guess you’re right.”

“Yeah. Now come on. I doubt the Cursed God would’ve put this challenge here unless he knew we specifically could do it.”

Matt nods, and they try again. This time Oli pulls instead of pushes, and Matt leans his entire weight into bringing the lever down towards the floor. They meet at the same time and the levers give simultaneous clicks, before each door slides open.

“There we go!” Matt crows, and Oli high fives him.

The doors split off into two directions, but both paths are dark. Oli and Matt look at each other, and then at the doors.

“Do we know which one leads to which?” Oli wonders.

“I doubt he’d let us choose,” Matt says, that signature dry sarcasm present again. “Anyway, it’s probably fine, right?”

Oli peers into the darkness. “Right.”

Matt reaches out a hand again, this time patting Oli on the back. “I know you don’t like the dark,” he soothes. “I think I’m starting to figure out that this crystal is a trap designed as much for us as it is for the others. We’re gonna beat this thing. I’m right here.”

“Yeah.” Oli takes a deep breath. “Yeah, okay. I came here to face my fears anyway. What’s one more?”

“That’s the spirit.”

“Oh god, where?”

“Ha ha,” Matt says, chuckling. “Ready?”

Oli bites down on the  _ no _ he wants to yell. “As I’ll ever be?”

They set off down their separate hallways.

****-** **

Matt doesn’t like this.

He doesn’t like being separated from his friend, for one thing, but beyond that he doesn’t like that this place seems to be preying on their nightmares and insecurities. The levers, the darkness, the fact that it’s JC, the fact that it takes place in a building filled with water… Something’s fishy, and it isn’t the aquarium.

The hallway is lit on either side by moon jellies floating in a tank that spans on all sides, creating a tunnel where they float over his head from left to right. It’s beautiful, but he can’t help but feel enormously intimidated by the ambience it sets. It’s too damn dark in here, and he can’t imagine what Oli’s going through.

There’s a door at the end of the hall and a note posted on it that he has to squint to read.  _ Enter the obstacle course at the risk of your own sanity, _ it reads,  _ but beware: once you step beyond this door, you only have five minutes to complete it. _

“Great,” he mutters. “Love time limits.”

The door handle is a valve one would find on a ship or a submarine, which he gets a kick out of. He grasps both sides and turns it, pleased when he doesn’t have to strong arm it—he’s a bit sick of strength challenges now, if he’s being honest. Then he opens the door and steps into the room.

Bright, white fluorescents flicker to life overhead. Matt’s eyes tear up immediately as the door slams shut behind him and the light sears into his retinas. He hears a  _ ding! _ and looks up, squinting into the glare at the room.

“Matt!”

He jerks at the sound of JC’s voice, turning that way. Just at the end of what looks to be a long obstacle course, lined by a metal fence with three separate stations is JC Caylen, standing in one of two large twelve-by-twelve plexiglass boxes set one in front of the other, pressing his palms to the walls and looking  _ very _ surprised to see him. He’s dressed exactly the same, though he’s taken his jacket off, his curly blonde hair plastered to his forehead from the water streaming in from the top of the box.

Wait. Water?

He takes a closer look at the box. There are no holes except for the one at the very top, attached to a hose that is pouring water into the box at a rate faster than Matt’s comfortable with.

“Crap,” he hisses, rushing to the first obstacle just as Oli comes out on the other side of the room, triggering his own race as water begins to fill the second box.

“Matt, what’s going on?” JC calls, voice frantic as he pounds on the glass.

“Hold on, JC, I’m gonna get you out!”

Matt’s having  _ awful _ deja vu. This is exactly how it happened last time: an obstacle course race to save JC, except he  _ lost _ and his friend died for it. His friend, the one he voted in to die in the first place. His fault, all of it his fault, and here he has a chance to make up for it and JC’s in danger  _ again. _ Can you die for real if you’re already dead? He doesn’t want to find out, approaching the first station, which looks like one of those open tide pool tanks that kids explore at aquariums. The note on the side of the tank reads:  _ Find ten sand dollars to pay the ferryman. _

“Living or just the shells?” Matt grumbles, taking off his jacket and shoving his sleeves up so he can stick his arms into the water.

He looks up at JC to gauge how much time he has before the box fills. JC is staring back at him, water up to his shins. His eyes are wide, but there’s faith there.  _ You can do it, _ he mouths, and Matt hates everything all of a sudden, because this isn’t the first time JC believed in him. And he let him down.

Matt grits his teeth. He won’t do it a second time.

He plunges his hands into the water. It is  _ ice  _ cold, bitterly cold, colder than he was expecting and he almost pulls his hands from it just from the shock. Immediately his hands go numb as he buries his hands in the sand, apologizing to the fish and hermit crabs and starfish he disturbs as most of them scurry out of the way.

His fingers close around something and he pulls it out, peering at it. A sand dollar, just the shell. He puts it in the basket next to the tank.

This is gonna take a while.

****-** **

Oli hates every second of this.

He knows JC pretty well, despite living in two different countries separated by an entire ocean. He hates that his friend—still dressed in 70s era clothes, whom he can  _ just _ see beyond the giant glass box between him and JC’s box—is in this sort of predicament, just on this side of panicking as Matt works to complete his obstacle course.

Oli's relieved to be back in the light, but this isn't the sort of thing he wanted to emerge from the darkness to. His own obstacle course looks different from Matt's, and he can't tell why his own box is filling at almost the same pace as JC's—a little behind, considering he started just after Matt did—or what's inside it. Not great.

His first station is another strength challenge. He has to turn a boulder over in the tide pool area to unveil the hermit crabs underneath. He struggles with it, still feeling the lingering pain from having to overexert himself just a few minutes before. Still, he manages, but he’s wasted a precious minute and a half as he moves to the next station.

JC, straining to see beyond the second box between him and Oli, finally recognizes him. “Oli?” His voice is muffled and distant, but the name is clear as day. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, mate, just hold on a little longer, all right?” God, the water’s up to his waist—they don’t have much time. 

The second station is matching different types of salmon to their oceans and rivers, with a helpful guide that makes very little sense. Oli frowns at it, trying to memorize it (he can’t take it with him to the matching board, because of course he can’t), before approaching the board. He’s always had a fairly good memory, and it shows as he matches coho and steelhead and sockeye and king to their respective habitats, breezing through the second station and moving to the third. 

He has two minutes left till—whatever happens happens, though he fails to see what the consequences for his own failure might be. Matt’s seem far more dire, and while Oli wants to help, he knows cheating in games like this only lead to trouble.

He hopes Matt’s doing okay.

****-** **

Matt’s suffering.

He loves seafood but he hates eating challenges, and this damn game  _ knows _ that. And there are plenty of types of sushi that one can eat—and  _ do _ eat—without soy sauce, but several in a row that are unbearably spicy when you’re trying to beat a timer that’ll kill your friend is asking a lot of him.

_ I’m not letting him die again, _ he chants in his head, eyes watering, face aflame as he shoves each piece into his mouth.  _ I’m so sorry, Japan, for messing up the way you eat sushi, and for being super white and not being able to handle this much wasabi, I swear I’m not usually like this—  _

There are ten pieces and he’s eaten five and the urge to throw up is stronger than the time he had to eat vegan hot dogs. But he breathes and continues on, swallowing rice and fish and feeling very, very full.  _ Please don’t make me swim after this. _

JC is alternating between throwing encouragement to Matt and throwing it to Oli. He almost sounds like a dad at his kid’s soccer game, shouting things like “You can do it!” and “Come on, come on, Matt you got this!” and “Good job, Oli!” He’s treading water now—it’s up to his chest and rising fast, but it must be saltwater because he’s buoyed and bobbing as the box fills. That’s the only good news, though—eventually he’s going to run out of room. Matt has maybe a minute left.

He finally slaps the chopsticks down on the table and swallows the last bite, the entire world rocking like he’s on a ship and not on solid ground.  _ Do not! _ his mind screams at him, and then he remembers that the brain filters out things like  _ don’t _ and  _ no _ and instead starts chanting  _ I am okay, I’m fine, I am okay, I’m fine _ as he moves to the next station: a door at the end of the fenced tunnel, one that presumably leads to where he can get JC out of there.

There’s one note on the door, pasted next to a big button that looks a bit like an intercom.  _ Confess your greatest shame to free your friend. _

Oh god.

“You got this, Matt!” JC calls, his voice strained, and Matt looks around the door to see that the space between JC and the top of the box is growing steadily smaller. He’ll drown in minutes. He can’t let that happen.

But Matt is ashamed of  _ so many things. _ He’s ashamed of surviving when he felt like his revival was cheating. He’s ashamed of not being able to trust his friends when they were reaching out to him, and abandoning Nikita when she needed him because he was too buried in his own head. He’s ashamed of being distant from his wife and kid, and sure it’s gotten better since the nightmares have faded—the recurring one, at least—but it still happened. So many things happened. But none of them compare to…

Matt doesn’t hesitate any longer. He knows what this stupid game wants, and if that’s the only option, then so be it. He presses a finger to the intercom button and says, “JC, I’m the one who voted for you.”

The lock clicks. He throws the door open to see the water just slipping over JC’s head. In front of the box is another button on a pedestal, and Matt slams his hand against it. Light erupts in the glass, outlining a door that then disappears and suddenly the water is everywhere, smacking into Matt with the force of a freight train and knocking him off his feet. It’s three or four long seconds of disorientation and agony before Matt gets his bearings back, sitting up and pushing his hand through his wet hair, forcing his eyes open against the sting of saltwater and looking for JC.

He finds him crumpled a few feet away and scrambles to get to him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him until he starts coughing, grasping at his arms. Matt laughs in giddy relief and pulls him into a hug before he knows what he’s doing.

“Oh my god,” he says, suddenly crying and not really knowing why. “Oh my god. You’re here, you’re alive, you’re okay.”

“Matt?” JC sputters, leaning into it. “What the—how are you here? Did you die?”

“No—I mean yes—it’s super complicated,” Matt admits. “But that’s not important. Listen, JC, I gotta tell you something—”

“You’re the one who voted for me, I know.”

Startled, Matt pulls away for a second to look at his waterlogged friend. “You knew?”

“Yeah dude,” JC says with a small smile, despite everything. “You laughed, like, crazy loud when I said you could’ve been. I’m not dumb.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Nah. I saw how hard you tried to save me the first time. And besides, you’re here now.” JC turns to watch Oli climb a ladder. “What’s going on? Why’s Oli here?”

“It’s a long story,” Matt says, turning to watch him too. He has a sinking suspicion he knows what Oli’s next station calls for.

No pun intended.

****-** **

Oli has this awful feeling he knows exactly what he has to do for his third station. The fenced tunnel leads to a step ladder that goes to the top of the twelve foot box that’s already almost full with water, and that he’s closer he can see a heavy metal key lying at the bottom of it.

He’ll have to swim to get it.

He can’t see through the thick water to where JC is, but he thinks he heard a big crash of water so he’s hoping Matt managed to save him. Over the roar of his own box filling—this one without a ceiling, so he can climb to the top and slip in—he hears them talking and relaxes a little. Well, at the very least the pressure of a time limit is off. Or, well. This one is. There’s still the doomsday clock of gathering all their friends and keys by sundown.

He clenches his fist. He’s done this before, to save Eva. He faced water with ease, and sure he had panic attacks immediately after, and yes at the time he hadn’t really been thinking of the consequences and he’s  _ definitely _ thinking about them now, but this is different than a dunk tank with piranhas in it. This is just a box with a key at the bottom. Nothing to fear.

He climbs the ladder. There’s nothing to fear here. The water at the top is spilling over the sides of the box, and it’s not cold but it’s not warm either. He can do this.

“You can do this, Oli!”

Oli turns his head to see Matt and JC waving at him from their side of the fence, cheering him on. Matt looks like a weight has been pulled from his shoulders, and JC looks—alive, and proud of him. He doesn’t know why Oli’s hesitating, but he believes in him, and… that means a lot. 

Turning back to the water, he takes a deep breath, and then another, and then one more and holds it. Then he climbs over the side of the tank and slips into the water.

He doesn’t sink, much to his surprise—this must be saltwater, which figures, this  _ is _ an aquarium after all. With some difficulty he turns and points himself downward. It’s just water, he reasons with himself, squinting into the salt. It’s harmless. It can’t hurt him. It can’t hurt him. It can’t hurt him.

His fingers brush up against metal. Oli grabs the key, pivots, plants his feet against the bottom, and shoots up again. He breaks the surface of the water and scrambles to the ladder, breath coming in pants too quick to not be panic. He can’t quite pull himself over but very suddenly hands are there, grabbing him by the forearms and pulling him onto the stepladder, where he grips the side of the tank and tries to stop freaking out.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he hears, and when he looks up it’s Matt, also looking like a drowned rat, and the image is so funny he starts laughing, the sound edged with a bit of hysteria. Still, he’s relieved, and when he looks beyond Matt he sees JC a couple steps down and stumbles towards him, all of them almost falling off the ladder before they decide wordlessly to move down the ladder till they’re back on stable footing. Oli pulls JC into a sloppy hug, and then grabs Matt too for extra measure.

“Crushing me, big guy,” JC jokes, while Matt makes pained noises.

“Don’t care,” Oli says, burying his face into his wet shoulder. “Let me have this.”

And there’s a moment where they all hold each other and no one really cares that they’re all soaking wet. They’re alive, somehow, and that’s what matters.

****-** **

“How did you get to my side of the course?” Oli asks when they pull away.

Matt points to a door in the fence. “It opened once you grabbed the key.”

“You guys gonna tell me what’s going on now?” JC asks, poking Matt in the shoulder and watching the older man rock back with the momentum. “Why are you guys here? This is  _ my _ afterlife, isn’t it?”

“Oh boy,” Matt mutters, putting a hand on his shoulder. “JC, buddy, we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Oli pockets the key as he follows Matt while he explains what all happened since JC died. The floor is sopping wet and they all slip multiple times on their way out, to the door on the far side (since the way they came is still blocked) that leads somehow back to the lobby.

“And now we’re here to get everybody back,” Matt says finally, looking at his watch. “We got to you pretty quick, that gives us a cushion of time, I hope.”

“Time before what?”

“Ah, well, if we don’t get all of you before sundown, we all get stuck here.”

“Also the Cursed God crushes us like grapes,” Oli mutters.

“Oh.” JC’s long curls, still wet, don’t quite obscure how his face pales. “That’s… great.”

Matt puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. We’re gonna pull this off.”

“I know we can,” JC says with a smile. “So, uh… Andrea’s here?”

“Yeah, you’ll see her when we get back.” Matt looks around the lobby. “Uh, how exactly do we get back?”

“I already tried the door to the outside,” Oli reports, coming back. “Locked. This key doesn’t fit, either.”

JC raises a hand. “Well you guys came in through a mirror, right? Maybe you need a mirror to get back.”

Matt stares at him. “JC, you’re a genius.”

“But we don’t have a mirror,” Oli says, gesturing to the place as a whole.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be a mirror specifically,” Matt says, taking off his watch. “Maybe it’s a reflective surface? Here, Oli, put the key to the back of my watch.”

They all hold onto each other, and Oli taps the key against the metal. He feels silly doing it, until the same familiar tug of being surrounded by white pulls at his gut.

And in the next second they’re all gone.

-

“JC!”

“Andrea,” JC says with surprise as the Prophet launches herself at her friend. They laugh as he spins her around, both talking over each other as Eva approaches Oli with trepidation.

“You’re soaked,” she notes with a frown. “Are you okay?”

He shrugs, shaking and trying to hide it. “Baby steps.”

“Here, let me try something.” She waves a hand and Oli feels the water in his clothes and hair pulled in her direction, gathering in a spherical orb of blue. His eyebrows shoot up.

“I didn’t know you could—”

The sphere pops. Water goes everywhere. “Damn it,” she grumbles. “Sorry, I don’t have great control yet.”

“You’ll get there, Katara,” he says, kissing her on the forehead.

“Guys,” Matt says, drawing their attention and pausing JC and Andrea’s reunion. “I have a confession.”

“Matt,” JC protests, and the Chalice holds up a hand, pursing his lips.

“I’ve gotten in a lot of trouble for keeping secrets,” he tells him. “I don’t want to do that again. Guys, I went to get JC because I’m the one who voted for him into the death challenge. The same one I failed to save him from.”

The group is quiet. Nikita pushes off from the wall to come stand by his side. “You made up for it,” she says, before looking past him. “‘Sup, JC.”

“Hey, Nikita,” JC says with a soft smile. “Glad to see you made it.”

She blinks, surprised. “Uh, thanks.”

Eva smiles a bit ruefully at Matt. “Listen, we all messed up at one point. I almost strangled Joey for voting me in.”

“It’s true,” says Joey.

“But you saved him now,” she continues, looking at JC, who nods. “We can only keep moving forward.”

“Yeah.” Matt sounds a bit choked up. “Thanks, you guys.”

She slips her hand into Oli’s. “Always,” she says, looking up at him. “We got each other’s backs from here on out. I promise.”

Shane sticks his head in through the door. “Hey guys, I have a place to—oh hey, JC—I have a place to put everybody when you find them.”

He disappears, and Andrea pulls JC by the hand after him. The others shake their heads and follow.

****-** **

“How does the defendant plead?”

“Guilty, your honor,” the woman says, narrowing her eyes at the judge before her. “And I’ll be guilty every  _ time _ until the corruption in this city is weeded out.”

“You won’t be given the chance,” he tells her, pointing his gavel in her direction. “I see no further deliberation is needed. I sentence you, Andrea Brooks, to life in exile outside the dome. Effective immediately. Guards!”

“I’m coming back for you,” Andrea snarls as they grab her by the elbows and wrench her out of the seat. “Don’t think you’re safe. The earth is dying and I won’t stand by and watch as you continue to pollute it for your own selfish greed—”

Her threats are cut off as they pull her from the courtroom and the door slams behind her, fatal and final.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are SO MANY puns I'm so sorry but listen, there could've been more, I stopped myself
> 
> Up next: Eva and Joey scavenge a post-apocalyptic, dying Earth to find and rescue Andrea B.


	4. Andrea Brooks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eva and Joey face a bleak future as they comb a domed dystopia for Andrea Brooks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the only warnings here is that I haven't actually read Joey's book 😭

Tyler looks around the ballroom. “This is nice.”

Joey looks stunned. “I don’t have a ballroom.”

“No, but this place that magically looks like your house does,” says Shane pleasantly.

“Hate that.”

“Why?” Nikita arches an eyebrow at him. “I figured you of all people would love this sorta shit.”

“I do!” He stomps his foot, pouting. “Why couldn’t my house have a ballroom!”

“‘Cause it was evil,” Eva reminds him.

“Oh, yeah, right.”

JC’s eyes dart between them. “I feel like I’m missing some important things.”

Shane claps a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, definitely. I’ll fill you in while we get this place spruced up for the others.” He throws a wink at the Leywalkers, a pointed  _ so get back to work, eh? _ there.

Matt’s on it. “Come on guys, we still have a long way to go.”

They trek back to the room of mirrors in subdued silence. Now that they’ve reached Shane, the entire house is open to them, no traps or puzzles to solve. JC’s rescue has solidified the fact that this is working, this is happening, they’re going through challenges again, only this time the stakes aren’t their lives (not really), but the lives of their friends. It’s real. If they win this, they get them all back.

Andrea peeks into the minds of her fellow survivors. Matt’s relieved. His aura—bright green, now that he’s happier, a green somehow more vibrant and alive than Iridessa’s ever was—swirls around him and leaves her tasting mint and oxygen, like a cool, refreshing breath. Saving JC was only the half the battle for him. He’d been holding onto that guilt and shame for months, ever since it happened, and only with JC’s blessing is he able to properly move on now.

Joey’s also relieved—mostly at the confirmation that they actually have a shot at this. The faces of all his fallen friends flash in his mind's eye, guilt there as well as the determination to right what he felt he’d done wrong. Andrea bites her lip, sighing. He isn’t the only one who let others die so they could live.

Nikita is anxious and consciously blocking Andrea from seeing her thoughts, making her frown at her roommate. Well, Nikita can be surprisingly closed-mouthed on a lot of things. She won’t push.

Eva, Oli, and Tyler have their minds on the people ahead, and how they’re going to get them out. Everyone is worried about Matt and Oli’s reports of having to solve puzzles that target their insecurities and triggers. The Cursed God has been watching them all this time, stalking them, learning everything about them when they know next to nothing about him. They know he has some of their magic, though it’s slowly being pulled back to its rightful owners. They know that he needs Matt and Joey to release him. They  _ think _ it’ll be in exchange for their friends, but Andrea—and Matt, she notices—can’t help but suspect that there’s something else he wants. Something they’re not seeing yet.

They reach the room of mirrors. “Who’s next?” Tyler asks, pulling his arms in to cross them over his chest like he’s hugging himself.

Joey looks to Eva and Oli. “If we’re going in order…”

“Andrea,” Eva breathes.

“Brooks,” Oli supplies for their Andrea, who blinks in surprise, before remembering that yeah, Andrea Brooks had died in the first slaughtering. It had been a shock at the time for her, the thought that it could’ve so easily had been her crossing her mind.

Ah, irony.

Joey looks at Eva and Oli. “We know her best, should we go get her?”

Oli rubs the back of his neck. “Actually, I might sit this one out, if that’s all right?”

Eva touches his elbow. “Of course it is.”

He smiles at her.

“Okay,” Tyler says, “then Andrea and I will get Jesse.”

Andrea does a double take. “We will?”

“Yeah, if Joey’s going with Eva, we’re the only ones who know him,” he says, shrugging. “And that leaves Matt and Nikita to get—”

“Roi,” Matt and Nikita say, Nikita sighing the name, and Andrea reads a ping of guilt from her roommate before the walls are back up. Andrea sighs too. There’s plenty of that going around.

The Seven split up, searching the mirrors for the little tags Shane put at the bottom. Each one is labeled with a name—Safiya, Matt H., Manny—and there are even some with their names on them, although they only show their reflections when they look in them. Eventually they gather back in the center with their assorted mirrors.

“Remember,” Eva reminds them, “we gotta find them  _ and _ the key in an hour or this isn’t gonna work.”

“Sooner, if you can help it,” Matt adds.

“Good luck, you guys,” Joey says quietly.

They touch the mirrors.

-

Joey sucks in a breath. “Oh, I  _ hate _ that—”

Eva grabs his elbow and yanks him into the—alleyway? It’s suddenly dark, the light of the sun blocked by a large building that looms overhead. Joey goes to demand what she’s doing, but she presses a hand to his mouth and motions her head towards the sound of marching feet. Joey looks as she pulls away, both of them holding their breaths as three rows of guards pass by the alleyway, their steps in perfect sync. They have padded vests and weapons in their hands that look more like the blasters you’d find in laser tag, and their eyes are obscured by a metal band that stretches all the way around their head, like the world’s tackiest shades.

Joey and Eva watch them until they’ve rounded the corner down the street before Joey turns his wide eyes to Eva. “What the heck is that about?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it,” she says in a low voice. “Where are we?”

“If this is Andrea’s room, it’s  _ huge,” _ Joey says, peeking out of the alleyway. It’s a city, that’s exactly what it is. The buildings are odd—futuristic, with lights that are closer to shimmering holograms and glass that looks bendable. The cars hover and go at a perfect pace, automated traffic like a train, except with individual cabs. People walk down the street, also wearing the bizarre metal band over their eyes. It doesn’t seem to be obscuring their vision at all, but it is unnerving to see people with their hair growing around the metal and their skin red where it pushes into their cheekbones.

“This is terrifying,” Eva mutters.

“How are we supposed to find Andrea in this place?” Joey wonders.

“No clue,” Eva answers, “but I think I found the key.”

She points to a holographic billboard, where a man smiles down at the city. He looks like a typical politician: old, white, and smiling a benign smile that looks just on this side of malicious. And around his neck is a heavy, ornate gold key.

Under his picture are the words:  _ Watch Mayor Weatherly Give The Key To The City To Lieutenant Copper! Tonight At 6:30! _

The two of them look at each other. “That’s convenient,” Joey remarks.

“Too convenient.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” He pushes a hand through his brown hair. “So… any idea how we’re gonna get the key?”

Eva just levels a look at him instead of answering. Joey shrugs. He’s had his fill of leading, frankly. All it ever did was get his friends killed.

“Hey!”

The two of them whip their heads to the sound. There’s another small squad of guards, and one of them is pointing at the two of them skulking in the shadow of the alleyway. Joey isn’t sure how they can see them, with that band across their eyes, but this future tech flies right over his head. Even Eden was nothing like this.

Eva clutches Joey’s hand. “Run.”

“Wha—”

She doesn’t let him finish, yanking him down the alley in the opposite direction of the people suddenly rushing their way. Joey catches his feet under him and runs with her, the two taking winding turns and sharp corners, trying to lose their pursuers. “I don’t understand!” he shouts as they go. “No one else got chased! I thought we were solving puzzles!”

_ I came for puzzles, man— _

Joey winces against Matt’s words ringing in his head, ages ago, back before—

“Figure it out later!” Eva snaps back.

Joey’s getting tired. He hasn’t run long distances, really, just bolted from hiding place to hiding place. Eva doesn’t even seem winded, which makes sense. She  _ is _ the athlete of the group after all. Still, all these winding turns leave Joey a little nauseous as she pulls him along at a dead sprint. Not only are the guards still following them, they’ve been joined by  _ more _ guards in tacky vests and like the grossest, least functional sunglasses ever. Daniel would have a coronary if he was here.

Eva cries out. Joey, having only a split second of warning, slams into her as she stops short, crushing her against a clear glass wall that flickers upon impact. A hologram, but a physical one, and suddenly the cityscape they’d been making their way through disappears for a split second to reveal miles upon miles of yellowed, dead desert before snapping back into place.

“What the hell?” Eva presses her hands against the glass. “Why—”

“Eva!”

The two turn their backs to the wall as the guards approach, Eva stepping in front of Joey and bodily shielding him like he’s eight years old. He wants to be annoyed at it, but it’s a startling comfort to be protected instead of failing to do the same for someone else, and he revels in it for a moment.

“When I say run, go right,” Eva tells him, voice just above a breath.

Joey panics immediately, knowing what that means. “We can’t split up!”

“We have to,” she says, sharp and pointed and angry. “I have a plan, but you  _ have _ to listen to me!”

It’s protective anger, he realizes, recognizing the powerful fury that he’d only really seen in defense of Oli. It’s for him, this time, and he’s too stunned to rebut. She takes advantage of his silence and shoves him to the right.

“Run!”

And Joey, against his better judgement, runs.

-

Eva isn’t sure she likes the Joey that seems so unsure of himself—it’s such a startling change from the one she knows, the one who tried so hard to get his friends out of that goddamn house—but for once she’s grateful for the way he seems to lean into what she says. She takes a step forward and drives her hands out, reaching for the drains on the sides of the street. She’d felt the water under her feet as they ran, followed the storm drain all the way down to where its reservoir was stored, only to run into the illusionary wall. Still, it’s beneath her, all that rainwater from a place she’s starting to suspect doesn’t actually have rain, and she’s no good at controlling water yet, but she can certainly bring it to the surface.

So she does. She curls her fingers like she’s grabbing it with both hands and yanks upwards, and all around her water explodes out of the grates in the ground, directly into the faces of the guards as they all shriek and howl and claw at their metal bands. The street is drenched immediately as the water mists the sky and falls again, pouring the way rain should. Around her, the holographic walls flicker and go out and the lights of the city wink out one by one in a five block radius as she stands there, rage coiled in every muscle, the barren desert at her back and her hair curling in the stormwater. Her eyes glow a pale, ice blue.

One of the guards lifts his wrist guard and points it at her. The next second she’s seizing as electricity courses all the way through her, setting every nerve on fire. She can’t even scream through the way it locks her jaw shut and sends her crashing to her knees, and then onto her side as the world goes rapidly dark.

And her last thought is that she’s glad Oli isn’t here.

-

Joey runs like he’s never run before. He isn’t sure what he’s trying to escape: the guards, or the memory of Eva sacrificing herself for a sinner like him. He passes people who cry out when he clips them and he can’t resist the urge to apologize for it, shouting it over and over as his vision blurs with tears of shame and self-loathing. Another friend gone because of him—maybe not forever, but it still  _ happened _ and for what? To protect him?  _ Why? _

Someone reaches out and grabs him by the elbow, yanking him into a building as he’s passing by it. Joey’s breath is slammed out of him as his back hits the wall, and the next second someone has their arm on his throat, cutting off his cry of pain and his air. He struggles against them, peering into the dim lighting to see his assailant, who isn’t even looking at him. Their eyes are directed outside the door they’d just pulled him through. Their skin is deathly pale, eyes dark and partially obscured by their hood and the blue and white checkered scarf pulled up over their mouth. He grinds his teeth, trying desperately to pull in a breath, and there’s a temptation, a moment when he wants to reach up and brush his fingers across the figure’s face and yank the life from their lungs the way the Cursed God did to the Leywalkers who tried to oppose him.

It’s odd, though, he almost recognizes those eyes…

The stranger lets him go and pulls the scarf down, and as Joey’s choking on dry air he realizes suddenly that they’re not a stranger at all.

_ “Alison?” _

“Joey,” Alison says curtly, dipping her chin in a nod. “Gotta say, I wasn’t expecting to  _ ever _ see you again.”

He stumbles back from her, suddenly aware of just how close he could’ve come to killing her. “You—what the—”

“Later,” she cuts him off, turning to go deeper into the building. “We need to get to a safe place first.”

He trails behind her, a million questions on his lips. How is she here? He’d been under the impression that the ones trapped in the crystal were the ones who died in the slaughtering.

Wait, but—Alison  _ did _ die, even though she wasn’t a contestant. Does that mean Calliope and Mortimer are here too? What about the monsters they defeated?  _ Arthur? _

Alison, much like Eva, barely waits for him to keep up as she leads him further and further down into the building, past tight corners and long tunnels that smell of dirt and rainwater. It gets more and more dark the deeper they go, though Joey can see in the dark—one of his nifty powers he’d discovered early on during the third slaughtering, not having the issues his friends’d had trying to look for things out in the shadows of the night. Alison looks over and smiles as his eyes glimmer purple.

“I see you learned some new tricks while I was gone,” she mentions, slowing as they reach the end of the tunnel. “You’ll have to teach me that sometime.”

“I don’t know if I can,” he says honestly. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“I can imagine.”

She looks good, for a dead undead creature. Her lips are still dark red like old blood, her curls out of their rigid bun and now flowing down her shoulders from under the hood. She’s in a cloak and clothes that look like an assortment of rags and technology.

“Are you still a vampire?” he finds himself asking, and she chuckles.

“Being dead doesn’t cure vampirism, Joey,” she tells him, throwing a series of complicated locks and pulling the door open. “Besides, I was born like this. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

He smiles at her and she smiles back, nodding him through the doorway. He steps through it, catching his breath at the sight of the underground city. It’s set in a hollowed out cavern, several lamps lighting the streets and gardens—dozens upon dozens of gardens, all growing fresh produce and flowers. Joey shies away from them—he tends to kill plants dead just by standing too close, and that was  _ before _ he’d become the Scythe. Beyond the gardens are tents and even some cabins, all makeshift and precariously built, but lovingly so as people come out from their homes to greet the two of them.

“What is this?” Joey asks, gesturing to the city.

“A long story,” Alison returns, leading them to the center of the little town, where a brick building towers two stories over everyone else. “Hope you’ve got time.”

-

Eva wakes gasping. Her limbs flail out as she struggles to find purchase, or hit something, or do  _ something _ to stop the hot, dry air from choking her. The light sears into her retinas as she squints her eyes open, eyes watering, tears streaming down her cheeks. There’s something on her face, and she reaches up a hand to yank it off.

Someone catches her wrist. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Their voice is muffled, but it’s familiar. Eva turns her head to see—Andrea Brooks, thank  _ god, _ though her hair is pulled back under a scarf and there’s an oxygen mask on her face. “Andrea,” she mumbles through her own mask.

Andrea helps her sit up in the dirt, cocking her head to the side. “Do I know you?”

Eva’s heart stops. This is definitely Andrea—she knows both twins, and besides, Brittany is still alive (although it was a close thing for a second there; Eva knows, she helped Brittany through it)—but the other Youtuber clearly doesn’t recognize her.

Another face appears over Andrea’s shoulder, also masked. “Sure everyone knows you by now, Brooks.”

Andrea smirks. “Well, I did kinda made a scene when they banished me, huh?”

Eva accepts the man’s hand and allows him to pull her to her feet. “Uh, yeah,” she says, going with it. The last thing she wants is to have to explain that Andrea doesn’t belong here, but to a world where people watch and criticize her every move. And also that she’s dead. That probably won’t go over well.

Andrea nods to the man. “This is Bri. You already know me. Who are you?”

“Eva,” says Eva, watching her for a reaction. Nothing flickers in her brown eyes, and she clenches her jaw around the disappointment. “What is this place?”

They give her odd looks and gesture around the wasteland. “The Outside,” says Bri. “Duh.”

“How many volts did they give you?” Andrea asks, concern laced in her voice as she brushes a wet curl from Eva’s forehead. “Water can’t have made it much better.”

“Well, that was my fault,” Eva says dryly. “Uh, but just pretend I’m a blank slate now. What’s going on?”

The two exchange glances, and then Andrea turns and motions with her head. “Come on. I’ll tell you on the way.”

“Where are we going?”

Her eyes glint in the harsh sunlight overhead. “To take back the city.”

-

Joey runs both hands through his hair. “This is crazy.”

“Yep,” Alison agrees. “Imagine my shock when I found out I was in the future.”

“I mean, I don’t think this is the  _ future _ future,” Joey says doubtfully. “It’s more like a weird combination of my book and  _ City of Ember.” _

She frowns at him, and he hits his forehead, remembering that both books were written after the Victorian era. “Never mind,” he says instead. “So… I’m sorry. Just run this by me again. We’re in a  _ dome?” _

“A biodome,” she says, nodding. “It has scheduled weather, perfect, synthesized nature, and those bands keep everyone on a strict schedule. They’d be pretty cool—you can talk to anyone you want anywhere in the world, use this thing called the  _ internet _ which is like a big well of information and humor and entertainment but displayed through screens and what’s called holograms. But they also connect you to the Network, which is run by the corrupt government."

"Shoot," Joey mumbles. "Maybe this  _ is _ our future."

"I really hope not," Alison says. They're climbing the stairs to the second floor of the brick building to meet the leader of the resistance, a man named Tristan. Joey is trying to ignore how wildly off this entire room is. To get to Shane and JC they had to solve puzzles and use their wits, but this is a full blown warzone. A dystopia straight out of  _ The Hunger Games. _ People's brains are wired directly into some Network? The world outside is so polluted you can't survive without gas masks? How is he supposed to find Eva, Andrea,  _ and _ get the key within the hour?

They reach the top of the staircase, which just leads to an intricate wooden door that Alison knocks on. It swings open and there stands a man with dark red hair and a beard peppered with white and gray, his green eyes studying Alison and Joey with an intensity that almost makes Joey take a step back.

“Come in,” he says, moving aside. “We don’t got a lotta time.”

-

Andrea moves at such a brisk pace, Eva has to jog to keep up. She doesn’t remember her friend being this assertive. Gone is her sense of humor and her playfulness, her signature smoky eye and soft edges. This Andrea is a stranger, just as much as Eva is to her.

Then again, Eva’s also different. A lot can change in two and a half years.

She thinks of Brittany. Those first few months were especially rough for the twin, now just a girl, missing her essential other half. It was rough for Eva, too, seeing Andrea in Brittany’s face. Remembering how Tim’s jovial face had contorted in rage and pain. Directed it at Eva, then at Justine.

She blinks from the memory, wondering if Andrea’s forgotten them, too.

“There’s a ceremony tonight,” Bri explains as they go, climbing through the desert waste. “The mayor is giving Cooper the key to the city tonight.”

“Sounds pretentious.”

“It’s bad,” he says, face solemn behind his mask. “Cooper’s been cracking down on execution as opposed to exile. He’s been campaigning for it for years, and this award’s ceremony is going to shine a much more positive light on his position.”

“He knows that exile isn’t a death sentence,” Andrea says, anger in every step as they near the hill she’s leading them towards. “We can survive out here, and if they know we can survive out here, then Heaven won’t be the last safe place on Earth anymore.” She points to the green sprouting on the hillside. “See? There’s life growing, taking the environment back little by little. If we help it along, focus on terraforming, we can bring this planet back to life.”

“And that won’t be good for Heaven’s economy,” Bri says bitterly.

“Exactly.”

Eva debates telling them that this isn’t real, but she knows that won’t go over well. She doesn’t know a Bri, but that’s not too surprising. After all, several people that weren’t contestants died in the three separate slaughterings that gave them their magic. She’s sure she’ll come across a face she recognizes soon—one who isn’t a Youtuber.

She just hopes it isn’t Arthur.

“So what’s the plan?” she asks, speeding up a bit to walk alongside Andrea.

“We have people on the inside,” she says, giving her a wicked little smile that looks alarmingly like Tim’s. “They’re mobilizing from their side. We just have to be at the right place at the right time, and pray for a miracle.”

_ I am the miracle, _ Eva thinks, pressing her lips together.

She hopes Joey knows what he’s doing, because it looks like all hell is about to break loose.

-

“That’s  _ literally _ insane!”

“Yes, probably,” says Tristan, “but we don’t have a choice.”

Joey pushes a hand through his hair. “Do you even realize what you’re saying? If the outside is toxic then bringing the dome down is gonna kill everybody in here!”

“Not the ones with oxygen tanks,” he insists. “The  _ good _ ones, the ones who deserve to inherit the human race. We’ll purge the people who polluted the planet in the first place! Don’t you see?”

“We’re not the ones who make that decision!” Joey wants to tear his hair out. “You can’t just—play God like that!”

Alison puts a hand on his arm. Joey suddenly remembers exactly who he is, and what he’s doing here. His ability to steal life and give it to something else. How he’d gotten all of his friends killed, just because destiny decided it wanted to screw with him.

The realization tastes like copper in his mouth. He takes a shaky breath. “You said Andrea’s going to breach the wall?”

“She’d gotten exiled on purpose to tell the ones outside of our plan.” Tristan, the leader of the resistance beneath the domed city known as Heaven, strokes his gray-streaked red beard. “The situation has escalated our plans. It’s risky, but it’ll have to work. Will you help us, Joey?”

_ I have to find Eva, _ he wants to protest.  _ I have to get that damn key. I have to save everybody else! _

Alison is staring at him like she knows something he doesn’t. Joey resists the urge to scowl at her.

“Yeah,” he says, sighing. “I’ll help.”

-

Night falls too fast. At first Eva panics, thinking that they’ve been here too long and that they’re about to be crushed, but when nothing happens as the sun dips below the horizon, she begins to relax. Time must move weird in the rooms. Inconvenient, and there’s no way to determine what time they have left, so she’s stubbornly not going to worry about it.

They’ve met up with a few dozen banished souls, all with oxygen masks with tubes attached to backpacks. Some of them have plants intertwined inside glass tanks on their hips or backs, growing lush and green and developing their own little ecosystem inside. Eva finds it  _ wildly _ cool, but the sight is sad too. If this is their future—or one of many possible futures—there’s very little water out here, and it’s driving her a little insane.

“Where are we?” she’d asked Andrea.

“Used to be known as the state of California,” was the answer. “Used to be wet and green and beautiful. Now it’s this.”

Eva can’t wait to get out of here.

The thirty or so wanderers, all of whom were exiled for mundane, trivial things like refusing to wear the Networkers and defying capitalism, all gather outside the ventilation tunnel as Andrea and Bri stand in front, facing them.

“Now, we’ll only have sixty seconds to make it down the tunnel and into the city when the shield goes down,” Andrea says, raising her voice so it passes through her mask. “Then, from there, we storm the key passing ceremony.”

Someone raises their hand. “And the servicemen?”

It takes Eva a second to realize that that’s what those guards are called, and by then Bri is answering, “Our allies on the inside will work to disable their weapons and bring the dome down. Our job is to get to the ceremony and kick up the biggest fuss ever.” He grins a little crooked behind the mask. “Make no mistake, this is almost doomed to fail. We’re going to be kicked right back out, or worse—executed the way Cooper wants. But the point isn’t to win. The point is to be  _ loud.” _

Eva watches Andrea be the leader she was born to be and can’t help but feel like this might be cheating. This might be cruel. Is it really her place to drag her friend from this fabricated reality where everything is awful but she’s become the backbone of a resistance in a near distant future? She’s become someone more than just a pretty face and snappy comebacks, someone not reliant on anyone but herself, and yes this place kind of seriously sucks, but… is she happier here? Is this the right thing to do?

She thinks of Brittany and how hard it was for her to move on. She thinks of Tim, and how they’re supposed to pull him from whatever reality he’s found himself in. She remembers that if they don’t get all of them, they get none of them, and she  _ has _ to get Teala and Sierra and Lele.

Eva purses her lips. She sets her shoulders and resolves to stay close to Andrea, and promises she won’t lose her in the fray.

With luck, they’ll get the key, meet up with Joey, and get out of here.

Andrea tenses. “Here we go.”

The ventilation tunnel—blocked by a flickering holographic screen—is suddenly clear. Eva braces herself.  _ Sixty seconds. _

They take off down the tunnel.

-

Joey waits in the alleyway with Alison, clutching her hand so he doesn’t lose her as everyone rushes the guards.

The plan is relatively simple. Their group, made up of a dozen of so resistance fighters, will disable the shield blocking the ventilation tunnels, keeping the good air in and the bad air out. Then they’re supposed to block the guards while the other half of their group raids the control tower to take the dome down permanently and flood Heaven with pollution. But Joey and Alison have other plans.

He’s about seventy-five percent sure Eva’s going to be at the ceremony tonight, since that’s where the key is. With luck, she’ll have found Andrea too, and the four of them can get the hell out of Heaven (with Alison, of course; he’s done a lot of bad things but he isn’t a  _ monster). _

It’s a terrible plan, but it’s what they’ve got.

The key passing ceremony is in the Square, a clearing in the marketplace dead center in the middle of the dome. It’s under the shadow of the control tower—convenient, and a little stupid if you’re running a corrupt government and your people are getting sick of being pushed around—so Joey and Alison are more or less in the right place. Tristan doesn’t expect them to be able to pull the dome down, but they’re willing to do anything to at least try.

Joey wishes he couldn’t understand, but his own world isn’t fantastic to people like him either, so, despite his best efforts, he gets it. There’s poetry in dying for what’s right. Hell, he wrote a book on it.

Ironic now that he’ll never finish that series, what with the end of the world coming and all.

Alison squeezes his hand. “The shield’s down.”

He squeezes back, acknowledging the statement, and the two move in unison towards the Square.

They stand out. They’re wearing oxygen tanks, for one, and masks over their mouths, and no band over their eyes plugging them into the Network. The servicemen converge on them immediately, and Alison takes her mask off to flash her fangs. One of them stumbles back in shock, while the next one takes a swing at her. She ducks under it and follows up with an elbow directly into his throat. He goes down choking, and Alison swings a kick into the other one while Joey slips between them and bolts through the crowd.

From there it’s chaos. People start screaming as masked figures with oxygen tanks flood into the dome, breaking up the crowd. Fights break out between the resistance fighters and the servicemen, several going down indiscriminately via electric pulses or electromagnetic pulses, slumping bonelessly to the pristine, clean ground. Up on the stage, two men stand looking stunned as the crowd suddenly turns into a riot: one the mayor, the key around his neck, and the other a white man in his late forties, scowling in rage as the pandemonium continues.

Joey zeroes in on the key. He weaves through the crowd, lingering to make sure Alison is following, eyes solely on the man with the key around his neck. He’s so focused, in fact, that he doesn’t notice the person in the oxygen tank and scarf until he’s crashing headlong into them.

Alison is up immediately, ready to fight, but suddenly Eva’s there, curls wild from where they splay out under her mask. “Wait, wait!” she says, voice muffled. “Joey!”

“Eva, thank god!” Joey exclaims. “Alison, wait, she’s a friend!”

Alison pauses, while Eva helps Joey and—”Andrea!” he exclaims upon recognizing her.

Her eyes narrow at him, before glancing back at Eva. “Am I missing something?” she demands. “You’re the second person to know me.”

“It’s a long story,” Eva says, speaking to Andrea but looking at Joey. “And who’s your friend?”

“It’s a long story,” he echoes vaguely. “We need to get the key.”

“I know. We don’t have a lot of time.”

“All right,” says Andrea, moving off again. “But I want answers after this.”

Joey looks at Eva. “She doesn’t remember?”

“Nope. We can talk about it later. We gotta get out of here, we don’t have time.”

“I know.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Listen, we’ll get the key, you find a mirror, and we’ll meet right back here. Sound good?”

“Mirror?” Alison asks. “I don’t do well with mirrors.”

Joey clutches her hand again. “Trust me, we need it for this. Go with Eva. I’ve got Andrea.”

The vampire and the Well glance at each other, clearly distrusting of each other, but Joey doesn’t have time for this. He can’t lose Andrea.

He takes off after her.

-

Eva has zero patience for this girl, but she needs her. Alison seems to know the city better than she does, leading her around the riot and to the control tower.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

“There aren’t a lot of mirrors in Heaven,” Alison calls over her shoulder. “They use cameras for things like that. But they do have—”

They pass through the doors, and Eva’s eyebrows shoot up. “Chrome,” she says, seeing how shiny everything is. “Okay. That’ll work.”

“Question is,” Alison says, tilting her head, “how do we get it from here to Joey?”

Eva is already headed towards a trashcan wrapped in shiny, reflective chrome, hefting it, ignoring the strain on her already abused back from holding up her oxygen tank. “Like this,” she says.

Alison shakes her head. “Here,” she says. “Let me help.”

-

Joey catches up to Andrea as she flies up onto the stage. Both the mayor and the lieutenant—neither of whom wear those stupid bands across their eyes, which is curious—back up as Andrea approaches with rage in her eyes.

“I  _ told _ you I was coming back for you,” she snarls behind her mask. “Heard you won your election,  _ Mayor. _ Congratulations. Now you’re an Official Asshole.”

“Ms. Brooks,” says Weatherly, a bead of sweat appearing on his brow. “What have you done?”

“We’re taking the dome down,” she tells him, grabbing him by his lapel. “And you’re going to see that we  _ can _ survive outside of Heaven. You’re going to tell people the truth. Right now.”

“Hold it right there,” says Lieutenant Cooper, and he whips out his gauntlet, pointing it at Andrea. “Let him go right now or I’m gonna light you up like a Christmas tree.”

But suddenly Joey’s there, grabbing his wrist where the skin is, and his eyes turn violet as he hisses, “Don’t touch my friend.”

And—he  _ feels _ the energy drain from the man, a man he doesn’t know but can’t help but  _ hate. _ This man who wants to kill people to maintain the precarious status quo of this dystopian world, slumping in his grip as he steals his very life force from his body, and Joey should stop, he should stop, he—

—yanks himself backwards, gasping, as Cooper crumples to the ground, limp. Still breathing. Andrea is watching him, still holding onto the mayor, her mouth gaping open.

“Who  _ are _ you?” she demands.

Joey crosses to them and takes the key from around Weatherly’s neck. He pushes a finger into the man’s forehead and he drops to his knees, unconscious in seconds. Joey shakes his hand out and looks at Andrea. 

“I’m the Scythe,” he says. “But you can call me Joey.”

-

“So you were in the second slaughtering,” Eva says as she and Alison carry the heavy trash can together to the Square.

“Yes,” Alison says, “I suppose that’s what you could call it. A werewolf killed me, and I found myself here. I joined with the resistance about four months ago.”

“Time is weird here,” Eva mutters. “The second slaughtering was over a year ago.”

“Yes, well, if what Joey told me is true, I suspect nothing I’ve experienced here so far is real.”

Eva pauses to let someone who’s  _ literally _ on fire run past her, screaming. “Sure feels real,” she mutters.

“Eva!”

They pause and turn their heads towards Joey, trailed by Andrea Brooks, though the latter looks cowed and unsure of herself for the first time since Eva’s reunited with her. He has the key in his hand and is fighting through the crowd. His eyes are glowing violet in the flickering of the dome’s holographic environment, giving him a vaguely demonic look as he brushes by people and they just—collapse, on the spot.

Eva raises her eyebrows at him. “I see you discovered a new power,” she says as he and Andrea stop in front of them.

Joey looks behind them. “They’re just unconscious,” he says as the purple fades from his irises. “They’ll be fine.”

“Will they?” she asks, the question a bit cryptic. Joey pauses, frowning at her, and then seems to realize that she’s asking about the room itself once they leave.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But… I didn’t kill them. That’s what matters, isn’t it?”

Andrea looks between the two of them. “You promised me answers,” she reminds them.

“One more thing,” Joey says, and Eva and Alison put the trash can down. “Hold my hand.”

She eyes him suspiciously. “You’re not gonna knock me out, are you?”

“Just trust me?” His blue eyes are wide and earnest. “Please?”

And something in her must remember, because she softens and holds the hand he offers to her. Eva holds her other hand, and Alison holds his shoulder, and he taps the key to the chrome, reflective trash can.

They disappear just as the dome comes crashing down.

-

Andrea gasps as they are sucked back into Shane’s room. Oli and Shane are waiting for them, and Shane smiles as Andrea stares and recognizes him. 

“Hey sis,” he says, “long time no see.”

“Shane,” she realizes. “Oh my god. Joey, Eva—what—”

“Oh, we’ve got a lot to talk about,” Shane interrupts, gently putting a hand in the small of her back and leading her out of the room, shooting a meaningful look over his shoulder at the trio. “Have you ever heard of pocket dimensions?”

Oli opens his arms and Eva walks right into them, tucking her face into his shoulder. “The others aren’t back yet,” he says over her head. 

Joey slumps in the beanbag in the center of the room. “Andrea and Tyler will be happy to see you, Alison.”

She smiles at him. “I’m happy to see them too. And everyone else, when we go to rescue them.”

Eva, meanwhile, pulls back to look at the clock. “We were in there for forty minutes,” she says, sighing. “It literally felt like all day, I don’t understand.”

“The Cursed God is messing with us,” Joey says, curling his fingers into fists. Violet curls in his icy blue eyes. “But it’s okay. We’ve got the magic now to mess with him back.” He smiles at his friends. “Besides. We’re winning. Three down.”

Eva smiles back at him, and the four of them sit down to wait for their friends.

-

“This is risky, Wellens,” says Shorty, spitting onto the floor of the cave.

“I’m well aware, Shorty,” Jesse says, not looking up from the map spread out in his lap. “But no risk, no glory, huh?”

“No risk, no death,” he counters. “We can’t take on a train and you know it.”

“We can, and we’re gonna,” Jesse says, a smarmy grin lighting his handsome face. “I got a plan.”

His gang all grumble about how well his plans tend to go, and Jesse chuckles to himself.

The afterlife sure is fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY for missing last week, you guys. work was absolute hell and quite frankly I'm surprised I even survived it. also this chapter got away from me :c
> 
> but hey, I discovered that someone made hil a trope page! I'm super flattered and excited about it and I already added some tropes myself, but it would mean the world to me if y'all could contribute too (some tropes are outside opinions, y'know?), if you have the time and know-how! it can be found below:
> 
> https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/HealingIsntLinear
> 
> Up next: Tyler and Andrea find themselves starting off on the wrong track as they take to the Old West to locate one Jesse Wellens


	5. Jesse Wellens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrea and Tyler find themselves separated on different sides of a train heist, but get some much needed help from the locals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings, just that I know nothing about trains and tHIS CHAPTER IS ALMOST EIGHT THOUSAND WORDS LONG JFC--

Andrea comes back to herself and panics immediately. She can’t feel Tyler.

She can  _ always _ feel Tyler. His chilly, fluffy pastel pink is a constant in the back of her mind, even when they’re separated. They’re so close sometimes she picks up on his inane mental chatter even when he isn’t directing it at her. And sure, long distances put a damper on the bond, but nothing as total as  _ literally not being able to feel him. _

It’s so startling that she forgets to wonder where she is. She’s lying slumped over in an uncomfortable, cold leather seat, her forehead pressed to the cool glass of a window. She’s rocking in place, and—what the shit is she  _ wearing— _

The woman across from her reaches out a hand. “You all right there, sweetheart?”

Andrea blinks, focusing on her. She’s very beautiful, with blonde hair piled up in a stiff, Victorian era’s up-do, sharp cheekbones and intelligent blue eyes. Her lips are thin but her smile is genuine and soft when she pats Andrea’s knee. “You’ve been out for a while,” she mentions as the Leywalker sits up. “That can’t be a comfortable position to sleep in.”

“It’s not,” Andrea groans, massaging the back of her neck as she stretches. “Where are we?”

“Just passed Denver. Hope that wasn’t your stop.”

She stares at her, and then lets out a little laugh as she realizes she was joking. “No, no, it wasn’t.”

There’s a man next to her dressed head to toe in black, a scowl set on his grizzled face, piercing blue eyes studying Andrea like he can read her mind from under his black, brimmed hat. He doesn’t say anything though, just leans back with his arms crossed over his chest. Andrea sneaks a surreptitious look at her clothes, which can be summed up to: Victorian dress. Pale, jade green,  _ very _ snug in all the most inconvenient places, and her hair is done up in curls. She probably looks freakin’ amazing, but unfortunately she doesn’t exactly have a mirror handy to see the exact damage.

Okay. Cool. She’s on a train, separated from her partner, back in the Victorian era, sharing a car with a very nice lady and her pet human pitbull.

“I’m Mary,” says the woman, right on cue. “This is Chris. Don’t mind him, his bark is worse than his bite.”

Andrea snorts indelicately at how her thoughts had apparently lined up with Mary’s, and it’s covered by Chris’s grunted, “Doubtful.” His voice is higher than she expected it to be, but still carries venom in every syllable.

She purses her lips. “Andrea,” she says, shaking Mary’s hand and ignoring that Chris doesn’t even bother to offer his. “Where you headed?”

“Laramie,” says Mary, and the lie lights up bright red in her otherwise neutral aura. Andrea can’t stop her eyebrows from shooting up, but she covers it by feigning pleasant surprise.

“Oh wow, me too,” she says. “Family there.”

“You’re traveling by yourself?” Mary sounds horrified. “Aren’t you worried about the robberies?”

_ Robberies? _ Andrea’s heart sinks.  _ Where are you, Tyler? _ Aloud she says, “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m  _ not _ worried, but—” She thinks fast. “—my aunt’s real sick and no one else can go up and take care of her, y’know?”

Mary puts a hand over her heart. Andrea feels a little sick at how easily her own lie had slipped out. Who knew that a year’s worth of compulsive lying would come in handy?

Almost, anyway. Suspicion rises, dark blue, in Chris’s aura as he studies her, clearly not buying the sob story routine. Andrea swallows. He’s dangerous. She can’t tell exactly how, but she knows that he poses a huge threat.

One thing’s for sure: she and Tyler are going to be solving more than puzzles in this room.

****-** **

Tyler wakes to gun in his face.

He yelps, the sound more like a high pitched squeak, throwing his hands up. The man holding the gun is scowling fiercely, deep set in his tanned face. His clothes are ragged and dirty and he smells  _ awful, _ although Tyler doesn’t smell much better, judging by his own rags. He’s glassless, too, which  _ sucks _ ‘cause he can’t really see past the barrel lined right up with his nose, so close his eyes cross trying to track it.

The man spits on the ground. “Got ourselves a lil’ spy, do we?” he says in a voice that kinda sounds like he eats wood chips for breakfast every day.

“What?” Tyler squeaks. “Spy? No, no, I’m not—”

The man doesn’t listen, grasping Tyler by the front of his shirt and hauling him to his feet. Tyler clutches at his arm as the man drags him across the desert sand, digging his heels in with zero effect whatsoever. The man is only a little bit taller than he is, but much much stronger, and Tyler resolves to start working out once this is all over.

If he doesn’t die in this stupid crystal, that is.

All around them, miles and miles of desert dust bakes in the scorching sun overhead. There’s nothing for as far as Tyler can see. A dry wind sucks the moisture right out of Tyler’s mouth. He can already feel his lips cracking. This is  _ awful. _ He doesn’t know where the man is taking him, but part of the reason for that is because he has no idea where he is  _ period. _ And there’s one more problem.

Where’s Andrea?

The man drags him, still kicking and protesting, to a small rock formation that sinks into a much cooler, shaded cave that’s so dark it takes Tyler’s eyes a minute to adjust. By then, the man has tossed him onto the ground in front of at least six other jeering men, all shouting in startled surprise at the intrusion.

“Found a lurker,” says Tyler’s tormentor.

“Well hell,” says a familiar voice, and Tyler’s head jerks up, searching the darkness for—

Jesse Wellens, still in his outlaw garb, arching an eyebrow in his direction with a small, disapproving frown on his face. “Jesse,” Tyler breathes, suddenly elated to see his friend.

“Tyler,” Jesse says, exasperated. “What’d I tell you bout following me out here?”

For a second, Tyler’s so surprised his mouth doesn’t work, opening and closing and opening again as he searches for something to say. Jesse rolls his eyes and addresses the others. “This here’s my kid cousin, been on my tail for months. Guess he finally caught up to me. Still wanna be an outlaw, kid?”

He stares hard at Tyler, until Tyler finally understands.  _ Oh. He wants me to play along. _ “Well yeah, cousin,” he says, throwing in a pout for good measure. “There’s nothing exciting back home. Took me forever to track you down.”

“How  _ did _ you track us down?” asks the man who’d taken him here, his green eyes narrowed at him. “We was real hidden, I made sure’a that. Been real careful bout covering our tracks.”

Tyler shrugs. “I’m real good at tracking.”

The man bares his teeth and raises a fist. “Can ya track this, ya lil’ punk—”

“Shorty,” Jesse orders, and the man stops. “Nobody lays a hand on Tyler, you hear me? He wants in on this, he can prove he’s up to it to  _ me, _ nobody else. Understood?”

The others grumble, Shorty in particular shooting venomous looks at Tyler, but they all eventually nod. Jesse gives Tyler a hand up.

“Walk with me, kid,” he says, jerking his head towards the mouth of the cave.

Tyler waits just till they’re clear of it to mutter, “Jesse, what the hell—”

“I should be asking you that,” Jesse says, grinning at him and pushing him a little in the shoulder. “What are you doing here, man? This is my afterlife, go get your own.”

“I’m not dead yet,” Tyler says, exasperated.

“What?”

“Listen, this is like— _ super _ complicated, but basically you’re not all dead and we can save you!”

Jesse straightens. “Wait, what?”

“I can bring you back to life!” Tyler backtracks. “Well, sort of. Like I said, it’s complicated. Also if we fail we might all die, so—”

“Who’s we?”

“Me and Andrea and Joey,” he says, eyes wide as Jesse begins to pace. “And the other survivors—you kinda missed a lot being dead, but the short of it is that we have superpowers now and the world is ending and we’re pretty sure you’re hostages—”

“Tyler,” Jesse interrupts, holding up a hand, “I literally can’t keep up with this shit. You can bring me back to life? Did I hear that right?”

“Well, yeah.” Tyler swallows. “But also, if we fail, we’ll all get crushed to death. So, you know. No pressure. Or I guess a lot of pressure, technically.”

“How?”

“I’m pretty sure just by squeezing the crystal we’re in till we all crumble into dust—”

“How do we get  _ out,” _ Jesse clarifies impatiently.

“Oh. Well, we need a key. And also everyone who died, we can’t get out unless we have all of them.”

Jesse digs into his shirt pocket and produces a piece of paper, aged and yellowed, with a drawing on it. “Is it this key?” he asks.

Tyler looks at it. It’s old and ornament and screams  _ magical key to get out of a locked hellscape! _ “If I had to take a guess, yeah, totally.”

“Well,” Jesse says, tucking the paper back into his pocket, “I got good news and bad news for you, Tyler. The good news is, I know where your key is.”

The Leywalker’s heart sinks. “What’s the bad news?”

Jesse grins, the sight a bit demonic, reminding Tyler of how exactly this particular Youtuber made his name. “It’s on a speeding train headed right for a cliff.”

****-** **

“You own your own newspaper?” Andrea thinks back to what she knows about the Victorian era. From her little stint in the mansion of horrors, she’d gathered that the time might have been a little more liberal than history books led her to believe, but that was a magical bubble of time full of monsters and sorceresses. This is the outside world, and by Mary’s pleased expression, it isn’t nearly as forgiving.

“I inherited it from my late husband,” she admits, “but yes, it’s mine and I manage it.”

“That’s incredible,” Andrea says honestly, smiling at her. She likes Mary, even if her companion wigs her out a little. Chris has appeared to have gone to sleep, but somehow Andrea knows just by looking at him that he’s alert and aware of everything that’s going on. The train rocks them as it goes along, winding between mountains and through valleys. Andrea’s never really been on a train before, not like this, and any other time she’d find it fun.

But she’s missing her partner, and she needs to find Jesse and the key before the sun goes down and they all get crushed into itty bitty Leywalker pieces. She can’t fail the team now, she’s only just won their trust back.

Mary sits back. “So what do you do?”

“I’m a mystic.” It just slips out—the response is so automatic tied in with the era that she forgot she isn’t her masquerade role, even if technically she isn’t masquerading anymore.

“Oh,” Mary says, with a disappointed wrinkle of her nose. “I didn’t realize one could make a career out of such a thing.”

Andrea grimaces. “It isn’t much of a career,” she says, bullshitting with the best of them. “And I don’t tell many people, because they ask me to read their mind or something. But it helps me get by.”

“If you don’t mind my asking…” Mary hesitates, studying her. “I like you a lot, Andrea, but I can’t imagine that dabbling in the dark arts goes over well at parties.”

“You’d be surprised,” Andrea mutters dryly. “But no, it’s not what you think. I’m just… sensitive to certain things.” She looks directly at Chris. “For instance, I can tell that your companion isn’t actually asleep.”

Chris grunts in acknowledgement. “Don’t take a psychic to guess that.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Andrea agrees. “I could tell you some other things, too, but I doubt you want me voicing them in public.”

That gets their attention. Chris tips the brim of his hat up, exchanging a glance with Mary before glowering back at Andrea. The Leywalker stares back at him, still, trying to read his aura. It’s not as easy as it is with other Leywalkers—normal human beings have multi-colored auras that aren’t nearly as vibrant, their emotions much harder to interpret. But she’s still the Prophet, and she can still tell that Chris—and now Mary, too—considers her a threat.

Andrea raises her hands. “It’s none of my business why you’re actually on this train.”

“How did you know?” Mary demands, while Chris growls her name under his breath in warning.

“I told you, I’m sensitive to certain things.” Andrea takes a deep breath. “Like when people are lying to me. But you don’t have to tell me. Like I said, it’s none of my business.”

The suspicion turns to curiosity, a flash of gold in Mary’s aura, the same color as her hair. “Well,” she says, leaning forward, “if you must know—”

“Mary!”

“Come on, Chris,” Mary scoffs, “she’s a child, look at her and tell me she’s in on it.”

“I’ve met a lot of kids who were more than they seemed,” Chris sneers.

Andrea frowns. “I’m twenty-three,” she mutters, which probably isn’t helping her case whatsoever.

“Chris is a lawman,” Mary whispers conspiratorially. “He and his team are on a mission to stop the robberies.”

Chris sighs. Andrea’s mouth pops open. This dark-mannered man is the  _ last _ person she’d guess to be a cop.

“Let the cat out the bag, huh Chris?”

Andrea startles as a large, jovial man with ruddy cheeks and a thick brown mustache leans over from across the aisle, brown eyes twinkling. “Hey there, little miss,” he says, holding out a hand to Andrea. “The name’s Buck Wilmington, and my young friend over there is JD Dunne, he’s single and loves horses—”

“Buck!” cries the young man sitting across from him, slapping him on the shoulder. His skin is a bit paler than Buck’s but his hair is darker and longer, hanging in his eyes from under his bowler hat. He flushes when Andrea looks at him and she smiles at how cute he is flustered by his friend’s wing-manning.

“Andrea,” she says, shaking Buck’s hand. “You know Chris?”

“Sure do,” Buck says, clearly enjoying the deepening scowl on Chris’s face. “We go  _ way _ back, don’t we Chris?”

“Shut up, Buck.”

“Anyways, we work together,” Buck continues, ignoring him. “You look the trustworthy sort. What do you know of the robberies?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Andrea says, telling the truth for once.

“Nothing?” Mary leans forward. “You haven’t heard of the train robberies that have gone on the past two weeks?”

Andrea shrugs. “I mean, I’ve heard of them, but I don’t know much beyond that they’ve been happening.”

“They’ve been getting more and more violent,” JD says, hazel eyes wide, aura flooded with light blue a little like Eva’s from the passion. “The judge sent us to escort this one and see if we can’t catch Wellens's gang in the act.”

Andrea stills. Wellens's gang? As in  _ Jesse's _ gang?

“This train is carrying some precious cargo to Laramie,” Mary takes up the story. “And I just so happen to have a conference about women in business in Salt Lake City in a few days, so I figured I’d come along with.”

“We just gonna tell every stranger we come across why we’re here?” Chris demands.

“Well!” She plants her hands on her hips, which looks a bit odd with her sitting down. “Andrea’s a psychic, maybe she can tell us if there’s someone on the train who’s in on the robberies!”

“Do you really believe that crap?”

Andrea stands abruptly, spying an opportunity and taking it. “You want me to scan everyone on the train? I can do that.”  _ And find Jesse and the key, _ she thinks to herself, trying not to worry about where Tyler is. She’d feel him if he was on this train, she knows it.

Chris all but bares his teeth at her. She doesn’t have to be psychic to tell that he doesn’t trust her as far as he can throw her. “JD, go with her,” Chris orders, establishing his position as leader of their little gang of cops—lawmen—whatever they are.

JD hops to his feet, a bit too eager to prove himself. Andrea smiles at him all the same and decides he might be too young for her.

“We can start at the back of the train and work our way up,” he says brightly, leading her back.

Andrea throws a glance over her shoulder and catches gazes with Chris. His blue eyes are colder than ice, and there’s a clear threat there that tells her the unspeakable things he’ll do to her if she isn’t who she says she is.

She hides a smile as she turns back forward. He reminds her of Eva.

****-** **

Tyler has never actually  _ ridden _ a horse before, so it’s a good thing they don’t actually have an extra horse for him to hop on.

Unfortunately, that means he has to double up with Shorty, who  _ volunteered _ of all things. Tyler suspects he wants to keep an eye on him. He can’t imagine why the man is so freakin’ grumpy, but whatever. His horse is a beautiful chestnut and  _ very _ well trained, from what Tyler can tell anyway. The poor thing definitely didn’t want Tyler on his back, but Shorty merely patted his flank and said a soothing, admonishing, “Behave,” and the horse settled.

“He’s beautiful,” Tyler offers as Shorty goes to help him up.

“Yeah, whatever,” Shorty mutters, hauling Tyler onto the front and getting on behind him. “Try not to move too much. We got a long way to go before we reach the ridge.”

Tyler tries not to freak out about that. They’re going to be robbing a train or else murdering a whole bunch of people. He’d asked what happens to folks when they get killed in this afterlife, and Jesse just shrugged.

“Start all over, I guess,” he’d said, which Tyler actively hates.

Jesse’s a pro at this, though, having no issues saddling up and calling to his men, “Time to go!”

And they ride.

For, like, a  _ very _ long time. Tyler’s ass is getting sore, and not in the fun way. He clings to the saddle horn as they go along, crossing miles of desert and then rock and dead trees. The sky stretches out overhead farther than he's ever seen, bluer and clearer, picturesque sapphire without a cloud in the sky.

He wonders how real it is, as they go. The Victorian era—back before planes and cars and pollution, back before skyscrapers filled a cityscape and obscured the stars from view. Out here the air tastes  _ fresh _ in a way he hasn't experienced since his slaughtering, and Tyler hates how nostalgic he is for it.

But they're in a crystal, filled with rooms that are whole worlds and yet still prison cells. It can't be real, but his ass hurts and he's choking on dust and sweating in this heat even though outside the crystal it's the middle of November. None of this makes sense.

The ride takes a few hours that feel more like days and by the time they reach their destination, Tyler is ready to fall off Shorty's beautiful horse. He does, in fact, slide off with a groan and manages to keep his footing, but only because he remembers Jesse's warning.

"These guys are the real deal," he'd told him. "If they smell weakness on you, they'll weed you out."

Tyler isn't weak, but he  _ is _ tired, and hot, and cranky because he's separated from Andrea. But on the plus side, he knows where to find the key.

"It's the jeweled ornament key said to unlock some buried treasure from a million years ago," Jesse had said, the twinkle in his eye belying the disinterest in his voice. "It's supposed to be worth ten grand, and that's in 1800s dollars, so adjust for inflation accordingly."

He'd said that it's on the train headed to a museum in Laramie, but they're going to intercept it first.

"We got people on the train who're gonna stop it at Rattlesnake Ridge," he'd explained. "'Cause if they don't stop, they go right over the edge of the cliff, and nobody gets the key."

"Isn't that a little violent?" Tyler had fretted, and Jesse shrugged.

"Nobody's ever not given up the cargo under the threat, so it's all good."

"And what if these people don't?"

"Can't die twice, now can you?"

"Have you tried?" Tyler had demanded, and Jesse only laughed.

Now, at the edge of Rattlesnake Ridge, Tyler thinks that maybe Jesse is having too much fun with this. Maybe he thinks it's all just an elaborate game, or maybe this is the only way his mind knows how to cope with his death. Either way, all Tyler knows is they need the key, and Andrea, and a mirror, and Jesse, and then they never have to worry about this ever again.

So why does he have such anxiety in his gut?

"Stop worrying, kid."

Tyler startles and whirls, seeing Shorty spitting tobacco on the ground, not looking at him. At first he isn't sure Shorty was even talking to him, but then the man continues. "Just stick close to me and you'll be fine."

Was… was Shorty reassuring him? Tyler casts him a suspicious glance, but the outlaw doesn't even seem to have spoken at all, just brushing down his horse with meticulous care. Huh. Weird. Nice, but… really super weird.

Rattlesnake Ridge is a canyon that stretches half a mile wide, crisscrossed by bridges for horses, stagecoaches, and—their personal target—railroad tracks. Jesse's men—Shorty, twins called Harry and Henry, and a man called Pick—all get out charges from their saddlebags and start placing them at the end of the bridge for the train, bright red sticks of dynamite that should be highly unstable, if Tyler's remembering right. He takes a few dramatic steps backwards.

"All right," says Jesse, putting his hands on his hips. "You all know the plan, but I'mma go through it one more time to make sure everyone's on board."

There are a few groans in response to his pun, and Jesse grins. "Renee and Baby will convince the lovely conductor to stop the train 'bout a mile out. If they stop it, we converge on the train and help 'em with the heist while Pick, you stay here and remove the charges. We'll honk the horn to signal they're ready to go, come back to get you, and get the hell outta Dodge."

Tyler raises an anxious hand. "And if they don't stop the train?"

Jesse looks at him. "Renee and Baby bail and we get the hell outta Dodge."

Tyler purses his lips. "I need that key," he murmurs to Jesse, "and if I know this stupid game, Andrea's on that train."

Jesse leans in closer. "Then you better hope they stop."

He gets back up onto his horse. "Let's ride!" he calls.

Tyler lets Shorty help him back onto his own horse and tries not to feel like things are slipping out of his hands.

****-** **

"I got a girl back home, y'know," JD chatters, still blushing as Andrea pauses in each car to try to read everyone in it. "Her name's Casey, and she's great. I'm only saying so you know Buck was only kiddin', 'cause he can be a real flirt and always is trying to set me up with somebody."

Andrea smiles at his clear nervousness around her. "I'm flattered, JD," she tells him, "but even if you were hitting on me, I'm really not ready for another relationship."

His brow furrows. "Oh. Did you just go through a bad breakup?"

"You could say that," she says vaguely, heart panging at the thought of her ex.

There's a moment where they don't talk as she scans the auras of the other passengers, and then he says, "Any guy would be an idiot to let you go, Andrea."

"It was a girl, but thanks, JD."

"Oh— _ oh,"  _ he realizes, and his cheeks turn beet red. "I didn't mean—"

"I know you didn't," Andrea laughs, patting his shoulder. "It's okay."

They reach the next car and he changes the subject. "So you can really read minds?'

"Auras," she corrects, "I can't really read minds. I mostly read emotional states, but I can do other things too."

"Like what?"

"Well," she allows, surprised he's so interested, "sometimes I can see the future or the past."

"That's amazing."

She smiles, touched. "You know, nobody's ever really—"

She stops mid-sentence, head swiveling to the left as they enter the next car. Two people sit there, playing cards, a man and a woman, and something about them tastes metallic and malicious. She tugs on JD's sleeve. "Them."

He looks between them and Andrea. "You're sure?"

"Positive," she says, more sure of it than anything else in her life.

"Okay," JD murmurs. "Chris and Buck are two cars ahead. I'll stay here and keep an eye on them, you go get the others."

"JD, they're  _ dangerous." _ They're dangerous in a way Iridessa wasn't, and it scares her. She can't believe Jesse runs with people like these.

JD grins at her, patting his twin revolvers on his hips. "Yeah, I know, that's why you're gonna let a lawman handle it. Now go on, 'cause I get the feeling I'm gonna need some backup." When she still lingers, frowning, he adds, "I'm not gonna approach them yet. Just keep watch for now. I promise."

"Okay," she murmurs. "Stay  _ safe, _ though, okay?"

"No promises," JD chirps, too damn cheerful for this.

Andrea nods, starting to move forward, only to freeze. Tyler. She senses Tyler. He’s still far, but coming up fast with the speed of which the train is going.

She tries to relax her shoulders and continues on. Wherever he is, she’ll find him, but she can’t tip the two off that something is wrong.

Luckily, they don't seem to be paying much attention to her, both focusing on their cards and the window, probably looking for Jesse and the rest of his gang.

Unluckily, they rise in unison the second she passes them, starting towards JD.

JD draws his guns. "Go, Andrea!" he shouts.

"What—but—"

People scream as the two outlaws react, drawing their own guns and taking cover behind the seats. Andrea can sense their confusion and wants to question why  _ they're  _ confused, but suddenly bullets are flying everywhere and she screams, ducking behind the nearest seat and knowing damn well that isn't going to protect her. Thank god the train is mostly empty. Too high of a risk it would be robbed. Small blessings.

"Andrea! Go get Chris!"

And only because there's nothing she can do to help does Andrea nod once and dart for the door.

Nobody shoots at her, but that's only because they're shooting at JD.

Somehow, it's worse.

****-** **

"Why isn't the train stopping?" Tyler asks nervously as the plume of smoke indicating its location gets steadily closer. "I thought you said it was supposed to stop by that outcropping."

"It'll stop," Jesse murmurs, eyes narrowed.

They're waiting in a small copse of trees to swarm the train once it stops, but it isn’t stopping, not from what they can see. “Jesse…” Tyler’s voice inches up half an octave as the smoke gets closer. He can hear it now, rumbling its way towards them and making the earth tremble beneath their feet. The horses whinny and side-step, obviously just as anxious about this as Tyler is.

“It’s gonna stop,” Jesse says again, more to convince himself than the others.

Tyler starts to say, “Are you  _ sure?” _ And then the train horn lets out a bellow and its brakes start screeching and it comes to a complete stop just as it’s turning the corner to where Jesse, Tyler, and the rest of Jesse’s gang are waiting.

Jesse grins. “See? Told you it’d stop. Let’s go.”

The cargo car, the one they want, is the fifth to last car on the train. They ride right up to it and Jesse swings off his horse, saying, “Shorty, stay with the horses. The rest of you, follow me.”

Shorty scowls but obeys, allowing Tyler to slide off the front of his horse and climb up onto the platform, where Jesse is forcing the door open. Inside are dozens of bags of luggage and briefcases and one glass box, encasing a key on a hook just hanging there for all to see. There are other glass boxes too—other things being sent to the museum, no doubt—but this is one treasure Tyler  _ needs _ more than anything.

Okay. Two things down, now to find Andrea and a mirror and get out of here.

“Grab as much as you can carry,” Jesse orders the twins. “Tyler, grab the key. We don’t wanna be here any longer than—”

Someone bursts through the door. The twins go for their guns but Tyler gasps, recognizing her even though she’s in different clothes and her hair’s pinned back. “Andrea!”

“Tyler!” Her brown eyes slide to Jesse and light up. “You found him!”

“And the key—” Tyler starts to point to their prize, only to find that Henry—or Harry, he still can’t tell the difference between them—has opened the case and snatched it from its hook.

“Henry?” Jesse demands, drawing his revolver. “What’s going on?”

“You’ve been playing with fire for too damn long, Wellens,” says the twin, while the other one, Harry, points his gun at Tyler. “Me and the boys have been talkin’ and we figure this’ll be our out, and we’ll go back to robbing stagecoaches or something. No more trains. And no more Jesse Wellens.”

“Jesse?” Tyler hedges, panic rising.

“It’s gonna be okay, Tyler,” Jesse soothes.

Harry grabs Tyler’s arm. “And to make sure you cooperate, we’ll be taking your cousin with us. Just as a little extra  _ insurance.” _

Jesse brings both hands up, pointing the gun at Harry. “The hell you are.”

“We’ll let him go soon as the train goes over the ridge.” Henry grins, and Tyler feels sick to his stomach. “Y’see, Pick’s not gonna be removing the charges from the bridge like you said. We’re just gonna take our loot and go, and if you’re smart, you’ll bail before you go over, too.”

“You’re evil,” Tyler spits out as Harry begins to tug him backwards.

Harry snorts in his ear. “What’d you expect from outlaws, kid?”

They yank him out of the car and onto the ground. Jesse and Andrea follow to the door, neither allowed to jump down, both reluctant to do anything to endanger Tyler. Shorty is waiting, spinning his gun on a finger looking bored.

“Didja get the key?” he asks, and Henry dangles it in front of him. “Great. Let’s get back to Pick, then.”

“We had a bit of a change of plans,” Harry says, tugging Tyler back up to his feet. “We’re leaving Wellens here. Henry and I are the new leaders now.”

They hold gazes, Shorty’s jade green eyes glinting in the sunlight. Then he shrugs. “Fine by me. Was gettin’ sick of that kid’s attitude anyway.”

The train begins to move again. Henry grins at Jesse as he and Andrea move away. “You got a mile to jump, Wellens,” he says. “I suggest you use it.”

Jesse points at him. “If you hurt him, you better hope I never catch up to you,” he calls, his voice getting smaller as the train pulls away.

Tyler has his eyes on Andrea, his partner looking more agonized than he’s ever seen her.  _ Don’t worry about me, _ he sends to her, giving her a small smile.  _ I can take care of myself. Find a way to stop the train, and I’ll meet back up with you. _

Andrea nods, and then she and Jesse are too far away for him to see. Tyler looks at Harry. “You gonna let me go now?”

“Nah,” Harry says, baring his teeth at him. “Might keep you around for a few extra days. Just to be on the safe side.”

“Actually, my uncouth friend,” says Shorty, his accent suddenly changing drastically from hillbilly to deep South as he draws his gun and points it at him, “you’ll be coming with me.”

“Oh boy,” Tyler mutters, raising his hands as Harry pulls him back into human shield mode. This just got a whole lot more interesting.

****-** **

“Andrea, I’m so sorry—”

“Later,” Andrea says, not meaning to be so short but not having the time for this. “We need to stop the train.” She pushes past him and to the next car, filled with confused passengers and Mary, Buck, and Chris.

Chris is on her immediately. “What happened?” he growls. “Where’s JD?”

“We heard gunfire, and then the train stopped,” Mary frets.

Andrea points behind her. “Two cars back, he needs help—”

Buck is already darting past her at a reckless speed considering the train is moving again. Chris narrows his eyes at her. “What happened?” he repeats.

Jesse comes up behind her. “It’s my fault, sir.”

“Wellens.” Chris narrows blue eyes at him. “I’m surprised to see you here surrendering.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Andrea snaps. “The train is headed right for a blown out bridge and if we don’t stop it, we’re all going to  _ die.” _

“And you know this because you’re psychic?” he says sarcastically.

“It’s true,” Jesse speaks up. “My gang was supposed to take back the charges once we robbed the train, but they left them there.”

“Chris,” Andrea says, gripping her fists, “I need you to trust me, please. They have my partner and the only reason I’m not out there trying to save him is because he wants me to save this train and the lives of the people on it.  _ Please.” _

He stares at her for longer than they can afford. Finally, he says, “Mary, go with her. Try to convince the conductor to stop the train again. I’m going to help Buck and JD. Wellens, you’re with me.”

Andrea breathes a little  _ thank you _ under her breath, hurrying with Mary to get to the front of the train. They pass confused passengers and ignore their questions, rushing through cars and people before finally arriving at their destination. In the front car sits the engineer, while the conductor is running back and forth looking frazzled.

“You can’t be in here,” he says when he sees them.

“We need you to stop the train,” Mary says, holding up a placating hand.

“We’re  _ trying,” _ the engineer speaks up. “The air brakes aren’t working and we don’t have enough manual to stop the train before we hit the ridge.”

“The air brakes aren’t working?” Mary sounds horrified.

“We think someone tampered with them while we were stopped,” the conductor says. “A man came in here and told us if we didn’t stop, they were going to blow Rattlesnake Bridge, and then ordered us out when we did. He left, but now we’re stuck like this.” He wipes his sweaty face. “We can try to throw the emergency brakes in each car, but we don’t have the time.”

“What do they look like?” Andrea says suddenly.

The conductor stares at her. “Why?”

“Because I can do it. What do they look like?”

“That’s—”

“Just show me!”

The conductor jumps, and then leans over and opens a compartment, taking out some schematics. “It looks like this,” he says. “But I told you, we don’t have the time to throw them enough to stop us from going over the ridge.”

Andrea sits down, right there in the middle of the car. She closes her eyes, matching the schematic to the brakes she’d seen when she passed between cars. She can see it in her mind’s eye, each of the twelve cars paired with one. She’s never done this before, but knew from Matt and Daniel’s notes from Iridessa that it’s possible. And she’s been practicing but was never able to get it.

She  _ has _ to get it now, or they’re all going to die.

Tyler’s face pops into her head. She can still feel him, though he’s faint, and part of her knows he’s going to be all right. The thought relaxes her, and as she throws out her hands and yanks, her eyes fly open. They’re scarlet red.

The brakes all switch on, all at once, as she telekinetically turns them, and the train jerks and screeches. They all rock as its momentum carries it towards the ridge, closer, too close, before coming to a stop a hundred feet from the bridge.

“Oh my god,” Mary breathes.

Andrea slumps over, panting, every muscle aching and sore as if she’d physically thrown each switch. In her head she remembers Daniel, saying,  _ “Psyche encompasses all types of psychic abilities. Even physical ones.” _

“How did you—”

She pushes herself to her feet, ignoring the conductor. “Gotta go,” she says, stumbling out, Mary following behind her.

She’s got a partner to save.

****-** **

“Shorty?” Henry demands.

“It’s Ezra P. Standish, actually,” says Shorty—or Ezra, or whoever he is. “And behind you, you’ll find Josiah Sanchez, and may I introduce you to the esteemed Nathan Jackson on your left?”

They turn to look. Out from behind a tree steps a  _ mammoth _ of a man in a pancho, huge and towering and grizzled, beaming white teeth set into his tan skin. And on their left is another large man, dark brown skin glistening in the sunlight, both pointing guns at them.

Harry understands first. “You’re lawmen. You’re the Magnificent Seven.”

“Well, there’s only three of us present,” Ezra drawls, “but yes, essentially.”

Henry starts towards him, furious, only for the ground to explode right next to his feet. He jumps back, yelping, and Ezra amends, “My apologies, four. I didn’t see our sharpshooter, Vin Tanner.”

“Give the boy up now,” Josiah says, reaching for Tyler, and Tyler considers pointing out that he’s almost thirty. “You don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Maybe we do,” Harry snarls, yanking Tyler closer to him. “‘Specially the ones who pull a double cross on our double cross. I always knew you were up to something, Shorty.”

“It’s Ezra, please,” Ezra protests. “I genuinely cannot abide by that alias any longer.”

Tyler feels like he’s in the middle of a Western and he  _ really _ doesn’t belong here.

Nathan speaks in soothing tones. “You all right there, sir?”

“I’m fine,” Tyler says, though it comes out rather high pitched and strained.

“You’re the good sort, Tyler,” Ezra says, sounding sincere. “I’d hate for you to get hurt in the fuss these miscreants are kicking up.”

Tyler’s eyebrows shoot up. Kicking up? What a concept. He reaches out the hand not clutching at the arm around his throat, and a whirlwind appears as his eyes shift to a pale, light pink. There are shouts as dust kicks up in a little sandstorm, obscuring the view of all parties as Tyler throws his head backwards into Harry’s nose. The twin releases him and he scrambles away, back towards where Ezra was, and the lawman grabs his arm and shoves him behind him as the dust settles.

“That was quite the trick,” he murmurs as the outlaws, seeing that they no longer have any leverage, angrily throw their weapons down and raise their hands.

Tyler laughs. “I’ll have to teach you sometime.”

It’s over.

****-** **

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” JD says with a bright smile, “this is nothin’. Just a graze.”

Chris leans over from where he’s cuffing the woman and frowns a little. “We’ll have Nathan take a look at it when he catches up,” he decides.

Andrea rubs JD’s good arm. “Can’t believe you held them off all by yourself,” she frets.

“I wasn’t by myself,” JD says, blushing. “Buck helped at the end there.”

“And it’s a damn good thing I did,” Buck scolds, popping his head over the seat. “What were you thinking, taking on those two by yourself?”

“That Andrea needed to get to safety,” JD retorts.

Andrea smiles at the two continue to bicker like brothers. There’s clear love between all of them—even Chris, she notes, as the man shakes his head and hides his fondness under his hat.

Mary kneels next to them, eyeing Andrea. “I have so many questions,” she says. “How did you discover your abilities? Why do your eyes change color? It’s not… black magic, is it?”

“No, no, of course not.” Andrea thinks about it, frowning. “At least, I don’t think it is?”

“That’s so cool,” JD sighs.

Andrea laughs a little. “Yeah, I guess it is. But… it’s time for us to go now.”

“Us?”

It comes from Chris, arching an eyebrow at her as she stands to face him.

“Yes,” she says firmly. “I came for Jesse, and that key.”

Chris glowers. “I can’t let you take either of them.”

“You don’t have a choice, big guy,” says Jesse, stepping up behind her. He’s also in cuffs, but hasn’t lost that cocky grin. “This is my afterlife, not yours.”

“Actually, I’m starting to think these are all real people, and you’re sharing an afterlife,” Andrea murmurs to him, and he blinks in surprise.

JD pales. “Afterlife?”

“Yeah.” Andrea takes a deep breath. “This is gonna be hard to hear, but I’m pretty sure you’re all dead. Your souls are trapped in a crystal that my friends and I entered to get our friends back.”

It’s the truth. She had to tell it, because she knows that Chris can tell when she’s lying. And even now, as he studies her and realizes that she’s telling the truth, she can see him struggling to reconcile it.

Silently, he turns to Jesse and unlocks his shackles. JD gapes, and Buck protests, “Now Chris, you don’t really believe this bull, do you?”

“It explains a lot of things, Buck,” Chris says quietly.

Jesse rubs his wrists and grins at Andrea. “Now what?”

She sighs. “Now we wait for Tyler. But first—” She turns to Mary, who looks like she’s having an existential crisis. “Do you have a mirror?”

****-** **

“Andrea!”

“Tyler!”

He barely waits for her to stumble off the train before pulling her into a tight hug that smashes the breath from both their lungs. “Never leave me again!” she scolds, laughing in relief in his ear. “I thought they were gonna kill you!”

“Nah,” Tyler says with a grin. “Nothing a little dust storm can’t help.”

“But you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

“Yeah,” she says, grinning. “We got Jesse.”

Tyler holds up the key. “And I’ve got this. So? We ready to go?”

“Beyond ready,” Jesse says, hopping down from the train. “The Wild West is fun, but I’m kinda sick of being a bad guy.”

“You were never a bad guy,” Tyler tells him sincerely, squeezing his arm. “Thanks for sticking up for me, Jesse.”

For the first time since they reunited, Jesse looks a bit bashful. Andrea turns to the Magnificent Seven—complete now, with the tanned, long-haired sharpshooter Vin Tanner having joined with Tyler and the others as they made their way back to the train. “You guys gonna be okay? What about the train?”

The blonde in black looks at his fellow lawmen. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

She nods. “Take care of yourselves. We’ll try to figure out if we can send you on, okay?”

Tyler sends her a questioning look, and she mouths  _ later _ at him. He nods as he, Jesse, and Andrea stand in a circle, holding onto one another as Andrea holds up a small compact makeup mirror and Tyler holds up the key. He taps it to the mirror, and the world melts away.

****-** **

The first person Andrea sees is Alison, and she squeals and launches herself at the vampire.

Alison catches her and hugs her back fiercely, the two girls rocking and laughing, Tyler joining in the second he understands what’s going on.

Jesse smiles upon seeing her. “Nice to see you again, neckbiter,” he says, waggling his eyebrows at her.

“You too, outlaw,” she returns, and he laughs.

“Nikita and Matt still not back yet?” Andrea asks, pulling away from Alison.

Oli shakes his head from where he and Eva are sitting together on the floor next to Joey. “They’ve got another five minutes before they’re late, though, I think it’s okay.”

Shane pops his head in. “Jesse Wellens! I love your show.”

“Uh, thanks?” Jesse looks confused. “Which one?”

“All of them, but I was talking about the western.” Shane tugs him by the arm out of the room. “Come on, we’ve still got space. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

“Four down,” Tyler says with a sigh, lying flat on the floor as they wait. “I’m literally so tired already.”

“We can do this,” Joey says with confidence. “I know we can.”

The clock on the mantle ticks ever on.

****-** **

Roi spies his red backpack on the conveyor belt and snatches it up, swinging it over his shoulders as he scans the baggage claim for his matching red suitcase. JFK is  _ massive _ and busy and he’s afraid someone is going to grab his generic looking suitcase by mistake, and then where will he be? Stuck in New York with only one change of clothes and no toothpaste.

From across the room, two pairs of eyes track him as he finds his bag and eagerly takes off for the shuttles. The first man says to the second, “That kid intercepted the drop. What do you want to do?”

The second man sighs. “Clean it up. Quietly.”

“And the kid?”

“Dispose of him. We don’t want any witnesses. Nothing can interfere with the operation.”

“Understood.”

They melt back into the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DON'T OWN THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN I JUST LOVE THEM TO DEATH
> 
> this chapter is so heckin long I cannot believe
> 
> hey so, I was wondering if you guys would be interested if I made a discord server for Endgame? I wanna interact with y'all on a more personal level (when I can, my life is very busy right now lol) and this seems like a good way to do that, but I don't know if anyone would even join haha. let me know in the comments!
> 
> Up next: Matt and Nikita wind up in a spy caper and encounter a different Youtuber than the one they went in to find...


	6. Roi Fabito & Teala Dunn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Nikita find themselves caught up in a tug of war and discover a few surprises along the way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small warning for triggered panic and very brief transphobia

Nikita clutches to Matt’s arm as the world rocks around them. Matt, more used to the feeling, rides it out, looking around at the crowded airport with a small frown.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, letting go. “You’ve got your “something’s not right about this picture” face on.”

Matt’s startled from his thoughts, giving her a wide-eyed look. Nikita rolls her eyes. “I know you, Matthew, it’s not that weird.”

“Not that,” he says, waving the thought away, “I just realized what the Tea was for.”

They’d been confused, before they jumped in here, because they had a hard time finding Roi’s mirror. Matt had finally found it under Guava Tea, scrawled across a tiny makeup mirror Nikita called compact and tacky. Considering they’d died back to back, it’s obvious why Shane had labeled Roi’s room like that.

“It’s a pun,” he explains. “Teala’s here.”

Nikita’s face draws closed. “Oh. Great.”

He touches her elbow. “It’s fine. I’ll be right here, the whole time.”

She shrugs him off, then rubs at her arms. “That ain’t what I’m worried about, Matt. I got the both of them killed, they should _hate_ me.”

“You were fighting for your life, just like them,” he reminds her, eyeing the tens of dozens of people wandering the airport. They’re in baggage claim, but he’s not sure where. “Whether they hate you or not, we’re here to save them. That’s what we’re going to do.”

“Yeah, okay.” She drops her arms. “So where are they? How are supposed to find them? It’s crowded as fuck in here.”

“I’m not sure…” He trails off as he spots a bright red backpack bounding away from them, their Daredevil’s signature black curls and endless energy recognizable in any crowd. He points. “There’s Roi.”

Nikita clutches his shoulder. “Matt, those guys—”

He looks where she’s pointing, spotting two men making their way after their friend. They’d be like anyone else in the cacophony of people, were it not for their identical black shades and how one is reaching into his black leather jacket the way some people would reach for a gun.

Nikita cups both hands over her mouth and screams, _“Roi!”_

Her voice echoes across the room, stopping people in their tracks. Roi, almost to the automatic sliding doors, whips his head around, looking for the source as everyone within Nikita’s vicinity gives her weird looks and moves on. Roi doesn’t see Nikita, but he does see the two people headed directly toward him like Terminators.

They see his eyes go wide as he freezes, understanding. Time stretches an eternal second, and then Roi drops his suitcase and bolts out the door.

“Aw, crap—” Matt hisses as the two men start shouldering people out of the way in pursuit. He and Nikita weave their way through the crowd after them, Matt apologizing every time Nikita shoves her sharp elbows into someone’s side. They make it to the doors just after the two pursuers do, and Nikita doesn’t even hesitate, barreling into the first one and taking him all the way down to the ground.

“Wait, wait,” Matt says as the other one turns on them, pulling the gun from his pocket. People scream, seeing it, as Matt ducks when the man brings it around.

Nikita’s suddenly there, grabbing the man’s wrist and yanking it skyward as the gun goes off with a deafening bang. The sound makes Nikita shriek and drop to her knees, slamming her hands over her ears, leaving her wide open as the man uses the butt of the gun to swing down towards her head.

He hits Matt instead, the Chalice throwing himself between the gun and his partner, the butt of the gun smacking into the back of his shoulder with enough force to break something. The first man gets up from the ground and takes off after Roi, who’s boarded a shuttle currently pulling away from the action, while the second man brings his gun around to point at the two Leywalkers.

“Who the hell are you?” he demands.

Matt glares at him over his shoulder from where he’s all but curled around his partner, Nikita’s hands still pressed firmly over her ears, her entire body shaking.

“I said _who are you!”_

“Hey!”

A foot kicks the gun from the man’s hand and very suddenly it’s Teala standing over the two of them, dressed in a maroon jumpsuit not unlike the one she’d worn during her slaughtering, fists up as the man recovers and comes at her swinging. She leans away from the first punch and follows it up with one of her own, a quick jab to the man’s jaw and then a spinning back kick that sends him flying into a nearby stone pillar.

She turns to the two Leywalkers. “Come on, we gotta go.”

“Go where?” Matt demands.

“Anywhere but here, come _on—”_

Nikita brushes Matt off and stands on trembling legs, following Teala as she takes off down the road, away from the shuttle, getting further and further from Roi. Matt looks over to make sure his partner’s okay, and she glowers at him when he catches her eyes. He turns back forward, smiling a little to himself. The day Nikita accepts help from him is the day hell freezes over.

Teala leads them around the side of the building and holds up a hand, pressing the two of them to the wall as she peers around the corner as security finally shows up. “They’re long gone,” she reports, before turning to the two of them with a glare. “Who the hell are you and why are you after my boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” Nikita exclaims, as Matt curses, realizing Teala doesn’t recognize them.

Teala looks between the two of them, suspicious. “You’re not with The Community?”

“The what?”

“Those guys back there,” she says, tilting her head back. “You were fighting them, but you’re obviously not agents. So who are you?”

“Friends of Roi’s,” Matt says, shooting Nikita a glance when she scoffs. “I’m Matt, and this is Nikita. You’re his girlfriend?”

“Teala. I was supposed to meet him here, but I come in and find out he’s being _chased,_ and _shot at.”_ She eyes them with a small frown. “He never mentioned he was meeting others here.”

“It was a bit of a coincidence,” Matt lies smoothly. “We just happened to run into him earlier, and when we saw those guys chasing him, we decided to step in.”

Teala doesn’t look like she’s buying it, mostly because Nikita is glaring at Matt for not telling the truth. But this is a delicate situation here. They can’t very well tell her that she and Roi are dead, never mind not dating in real life.

He decides to go on offense. “You know, Roi never mentioned his girlfriend is a—what are you, a spy?”

“Special Agent Teala Dunn, CIA.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “And he doesn’t know because I didn’t tell him. And we can’t, because I’m not supposed to be doing this right now.”

“What exactly is going on?” Nikita asks, dialing back a little when Teala shoots her an annoyed glare. “Why are they after Roi?”

Teala doesn’t answer for a long moment, before brushing past the two of them towards the parking garage.

“Come on,” she says over her shoulder. “I’ll tell you on the way.”

-

“My mission was to smuggle a Community computer hidden in a Nintendo Switch from Turkey to Bulgaria to a scientist, a consultant to the CIA, who would be able to decode it.” Teala’s hands tighten on the steering wheel of her car as they fly down the highway. “But I failed my mission. The Community was waiting for me when I got off the ship. They’d killed my handler _and_ the scientist. I barely made it out alive, but they took the case. Luckily, I managed to keep the computer out of their hands, but I needed to hide it and get it back to the States.”

“What does this have to do with Roi?” Matt asks.

Teala hesitates. “Roi had come with me,” she admits begrudgingly. “We went to Italy together. He was my cover. I told him I was going back early for work, and to finish out the vacation and I’d meet him here, at the airport, today.”

Matt nods. “You hid the Switch in his backpack and used yourself as a decoy.”

“But it didn’t work,” Nikita points out from the backseat. She has her arms folded over her chest, but she still feels incredibly cold. “Those guys were definitely after him specifically.”

“I know. Which is why we have to beat them home before Roi gets there.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Matt wants to know. “Why bring us along?”

“Because it’s illegal to work operations on American soil.” Her pink lips twist into a smirk. “I’ve been improvising for four days, what’s one more?” She casts him a sideways glance, softening a little as he meets her gaze. “Besides,” she says, turning back to the road, “I can tell you’re good people.”

Nikita scoffs. She doesn’t know the half of it.

This is all so frickin’ bizarre. Never mind that Teala is a spy—and a capable one at that—but she’s _dating Roi_ of all people. What had to happen in this hellhole for that to come about? Nikita isn’t sure she wants to know.

Matt’s still asking questions. “So you can’t tell the CIA you’re here?”

“Nope, I’m on my own till I can get it to headquarters.” She sighs, shifting in her seat. “I don’t understand why Roi hasn’t—”

The ringing of her phone interrupts her, and she pulls it from her pocket. “Roi?” She pauses. “Wait, slow down, honey, what’s going on?”

The change is startling. This is the Teala Nikita knows: kind of a ditz, talkative, sweet, loud. She can hear Roi’s distressed voice on the other side of the call, and her heart sinks knowing that they’re going to hate her when they wake up and realize just who she is.

“Are you at the house?” Teala nods. “Okay, I’m on my way, okay? Just _stay there._ No—don’t call the police, just wait for me, okay? Okay. I love you too. I’ll see you soon. Okay, bye.”

She hangs up and tightens her grip on the steering wheel again. “I should never have dragged him into this.”

Matt watches her. “You seem like you care about him a lot.”

“He always—” She gives a breathless laugh. “He always found my disappearing for weeks on end mysterious, I guess. He liked the unpredictability of it. I always thought he knows, or at least suspected, but he never asked. He never asks for more than I can give him. I think I took advantage of that.”

Nikita stares out the window as New York flies past. The sun is beginning to set wherever or whenever they are. It’s really pretty.

She wonders what it’s like to have someone care about you like that and can’t quite imagine it. She has a hard enough time letting friends in, she can’t even fathom what having a boyfriend who doesn’t mind all of you is like. There’s always, for her, that one little caveat, that tiny little exception she can’t get rid of no matter how many surgeries she gets, no matter how beautiful she can make her face up to be. Every guy balks at it, at _her,_ like she’s tainted.

But she doesn’t talk about that. She doesn’t even let herself think it, sometimes. She’s a girl. She’s always been a girl. It’s not her fault other people have a hard time seeing that.

“We’re being followed.”

Matt’s grim voice pulls her from her melancholy, and Nikita twists in her seat to see a gray sedan weaving through traffic to position itself directly behind them. Teala’s only response is to gun the engine.

“Hold on,” she says, voice short.

The highway is dense with traffic as the evening draws to a close. Nikita clings to the handle over her head as Teala swerves into the shoulder and shoots forward, coming precariously close to cars as they honk their irritation and disapproval at her. The sedan responds by doing the same thing, coming up right behind them—close enough that Nikita can see now the two men from the airport, still with their stupid dark sunglasses, in the rearview mirror.

“Teala,” Matt warns.

“I know what I’m doing,” she shoots back, before glancing over her shoulder and slamming on the brakes.

Matt and Nikita both shriek, at nearly the same pitch, as the spy switches lanes in rapid succession, crossing the four lane highway and taking the exit there as the sedan is still recovering from swerving in order to miss hitting them. She speeds down the off ramp, takes a left, and then gets back on the highway going the other direction, leaving the gray sedan behind.

“That was fucking terrifying,” Nikita gasps, while Matt just pats his chest, speechless.

Teala smirks. “What can I say? I’m damn good at my job.”

 _No kidding,_ Nikita thinks, heart sinking. She doesn’t let herself finish the thought.

-

They pull into an apartment complex just outside the city after making sure they were no longer being followed. Teala leads them up a story, pulling out her keys—and Matt chokes, seeing the same key Oli had recovered in JC’s room, sitting on the keychain. 

He points at it as she goes to unlock the door. “One of these things is not like the other,” he jokes.

Teala hands him a weird look. “Just a souvenir Roi got me when we were in Europe,” she tells him, unlocking the door. “Roi?”

“Teala?” Roi pops his head out from the kitchen, his Filipino eyes wide. “Oh, thank god—”

They meet in the middle of the living room, clinging to one another as Roi stammers, “I—I don’t know what’s going on, I was at the airport and these guys had guns and they were chasing me and—”

“Sh, sh, it’s okay,” she soothes, kissing him on the temple and holding him close. “I can explain everything.”

Roi returns the kiss to hers, too, before freezing as he catches sight of Matt and Nikita. “Wait,” he says, confused. “What are you guys doing here?”

Matt and Nikita exchange surprised glances as Teala demands, “You know who they are?”

Roi turns wide eyes to Teala. _“You_ know who they are?”

“Time out,” Matt starts to say—

—only to be interrupted, yet again, as the door flies open and in floods _four_ agents in black leather jackets and sunglasses, guns up and aimed at the biggest threat in the room: Teala.

Or so they think. Nikita moves lightning quick, snarling, coming from low and snatching the gun from the man closest to her before using it to smack him across the jaw. The man goes down like a sack of potatoes, while Teala pivots and socks another right in the gut, bringing up a knee to meet his face as he doubles over.

“Matpat!” she shouts at him as they recover. “Get Roi out of here!”

Matt jolts at his nickname—a name he hadn’t given to Teala, so how did she know it, unless—but he doesn’t have time to think about that, grabbing Roi by the wrist and yanking him back, further into the apartment.

“Matt—” Roi begins.

“Later,” Matt cuts him off, looking around the small one-bedroom. “Is there a window?”

“Yeah, in my room, but we’re on the second story and there’s no fire escape.”

“We’ll take that chance,” he says, shoving him towards it. “Come on, we gotta go.”

“What about Teala?” Roi demands.

“I think she’s got it covered. Besides, Nikita’s with her.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Matt pauses, looking at him, but the sound of gunshots and Nikita swearing sounds from the kitchen. He pushes Roi towards the window again. “I promise I’ll explain everything,” he says, “but first we need to get you, and Teala too, out of here. Where are your keys?”

“On the hook by the door,” he says, confused. “Why?”

“Go on, I’ll be right behind you.”

“Matt—”

“Go!”

Matt doesn’t wait for him to comply, darting back down the hallway. Teala is taking a hit from one goon, while Nikita has flung a gun to the far end of the living room and is kicking her assailant where the sun don’t shine. Matt chuckles, grabbing Roi’s keys from the hook. His hunch had been right—Roi had gotten a second souvenir, a matching key on his own keychain, the key to getting out of here. Damn Teala’s mission, they have to _go_ before one of those guys gets lucky and—

Another gunshot. Teala screams, and Matt whirls, watching her collapse to the floor, clutching her upper thigh. He starts towards her, only for Nikita to whip her head around at him. Her eyes are glowing marigold orange.

“Get Roi!”

“But—”

“I got her,” she says, fire flickering to life as she stands over Teala, who has her forehead pressed to the floor and is grinding her teeth around the pain. “Trust me.”

The men back away as the lightbulbs in the room explode, sending the world crashing into darkness save for the flames dividing the kitchen, the bad guys on one side and Nikita and Teala on the other.

Matt doesn’t wait. He flies out the door and takes the stairs three at a time, hurling himself around the corner to see Roi getting up, grimacing and hopping from foot to foot. “We gotta go,” he says, grabbing his wrist again.

“Matt, what is going _on,”_ Roi growls, his happy-go-lucky countenance replaced by the deepset frown on his face. “Why are you and Nikita here? Are you dead?”

“Oh, believe me, I have questions for you too,” Matt mutters as he reaches Teala’s car. “But my priority is getting you out as soon as possible.”

“But Teala—”

“Roi,” Matt says seriously, turning to him and placing both hands on his shoulders. “I promise you, Nikita’s got her. They’re coming. I promise.”

Roi still looks doubtful, but he nods as Matt lets go and keeps one hand on his shoulder, tapping the key to the sideview mirror.

The world falls away, replaced by the room of mirrors as Roi rocks with the shift of going from one pocket dimension to another.

“Matt!”

It’s Joey’s voice, as hands steady him and Roi: Joey and the others, along with a face he doesn’t recognize. Looks like they’re the last to finish this round.

“Where’s Nikita?” Andrea asks, voice trembling as she reads Matt’s distress.

Matt turns back to the tiny little mirror on the floor as Roi clutches his hand, both of them waiting for the girls to come back.

It only takes another twenty seconds, and then Nikita is there, holding Teala on her back, the spy’s brow sweaty, her eyes closed.

"Teala!" Eva rushes forward.

“She’s hurt,” Nikita grunts as Roi and Eva help Matt slide Teala off her back and lower her gently to the floor.

“I got this,” Matt murmurs, placing both hands against the gunshot wound in Teala’s thigh. He breathes, imagining his energy flowing from him to Teala, destroying the bullet and mending the muscle. He’d been able to do this a couple of times on himself, but never on another person. He isn’t sure if—

Teala inhales, sharp and deep, as bright green light pours from Matt’s hands to her leg. His eyes glow green as her fly open, and she writhes against his grip, the wound closing completely with the blood on her jumpsuit the only indication that it had ever existed in the first place.

Matt falls back as Roi steps into the space he’d vacated, pulling Teala in close and rocking her as her hands up come to clutch at him. He feels drained all of a sudden, exhausted. That makes sense, if he looks at this scientifically. The energy he’d given to Teala to heal her had to have come from somewhere. Since he’s the conduit, it makes sense that it was drawn from him. Eva curls her arms around both Roi and Teala, crying tears of giddy relief as Teala struggles to process what all went on.

Nikita also falls back, into Andrea as the Prophet kneels to help her up. “That was intense,” she groans.

Teala looks at her, eyes wide. “Did you just burn down my apartment?”

“To save your ass, yeah.”

The spy is quiet for a second, watching her as Roi and Eva pull away from their group hug to watch her too. Finally, she says, “Thank you.”

Shane pops his head in then, his timing impeccable. “Oh good, you found both of them,” he says, smiling at Teala and Roi. “Come on into the ballroom, guys, I’ll answer any questions you have.”

“Wait,” Roi says, holding up a hand as he and Teala climb to their feet. He looks at Teala. “You called Matt “Matpat.” You knew who they were.”

“So did you,” she accuses, though she mostly just sounds confused. “Are you saying you knew the whole time? That all of that was fake?”

He nods, slowly. “And you?”

“Yeah. But…” She looks away, rubbing at her arms. “If you knew the whole time, why did you—”

“Go out with you?” Roi guesses. He smiles a little and reaches for her hands, so he can hold them. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

There’s a silence that stretches as the Leywalkers look at each other, the only ones in the know being Matt and Nikita, who can’t hide their smiles as Teala bites her lower lip.

“Well,” she begins, then stops. She takes a deep breath. “I mean, I liked you. I… like you.”

“Oh thank god,” Roi sighs. “This was going to be so awkward otherwise.”

They laugh, and Shane smiles as they make their way over to them. Roi sends Matt a wink over his shoulder as they go, and Matt chuckles to himself, thinking of how strange the world works for that to have worked out like it did.

“You guys were busy,” Eva teases.

“Yeah, it was fun,” Nikita groans, lying back down. “Can we take a break now?”

“Nope,” says Tyler, pointing at the clock on the mantle. “We still have like six hours to find sixteen Youtubers. We have a long way to go.”

She sighs and stands, giving Matt a hand up. “Fine then. Who’s next?”

-

 _Far, far away in a dragon’s lair_  
_Sleeps a young maiden, blonde and fair_  
_Awaiting a Scythe in the form of a prince_  
_To break her curse with true love’s kiss…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was much shorter, y'all, apologies! and don't worry, we'll revisit our already-rescued contestants soon :D
> 
> two quick things, the first is that I won't be posting next week due to me going on a trip with my friend Kait_darling (check out her work if you haven't, it's SO GOOD), so sorry about that!
> 
> the second is I have a discord server now, since I got such a wonderful response back from yall! it's here: https://discord.gg/EVGcaEC
> 
> come on in and say hi! I'd love to meet all of you <3
> 
> Up next: Joey and Oli fight a dragon and save a princess


	7. Justine Ezarik

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joey and Oli find themselves reliving a (mostly) familiar fairytale as they trek for iJustine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of panic, nothing serious

Matt pulls Nikita aside as the others comb through the mirrors. “I think I should sit this one out,” he says.

“Why?” She gives him a once-over, trying to find whatever’s wrong with him.

“It’s nothing like that,” he assures her, interpreting the look correctly. “I just think with Shane busy settling everyone in, no one is looking for his key, and we _ have _ to find it. We can’t get out even if we have all of our friends back without it.”

“I’ll help.”

They turn to see Eva standing there, arms crossed over her chest. “It’s a big house,” she offers, “and I know it pretty well.”

“This isn’t the same house,” Matt points out.

She shrugs. “Then I’ll be there to tell you what rooms aren’t from the original. Either way, I don’t want you going off alone.”

Nikita frowns, ready to argue, but Matt puts a hand on her arm and gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “All right,” he says instead. “Where do you want to start?”

The two head out of the room of mirrors, Nikita’s frown deepening as she watches them go, unsure of what to make of that interaction.

Andrea sidles up next to her. “It’s not that Eva doesn’t trust him,” she offers. “She’s just worried and doesn’t like any of us out of her sight if they’re going off alone. Especially Matt.”

Nikita relaxes a little. “What did we say about reading our minds?” she teases.

“It’s not mindreading if it’s written all over your face, Kitty,” Andrea shoots back, grinning.

“Look at this,” Oli calls, drawing their attention. He’s holding a huge, full body ornate mirror with a gold-accented frame—he’s the only one really tall enough to see the names scrawled up on top. “This has two names on it. DeStorm and Alex.”

“Alex?” Tyler puts down the mirror he’d been looking at and makes his way over. “Alex is in the same room as DeStorm?”

Andrea looks horrified. “Whose bright idea was  _ that?” _

“Looks like the Cursed God has a sense of humor,” Joey says dryly. “Who wants to get them?” He points to his mirror—a round oval mounted on the wall. “I can’t, I’m getting Justine.”

“I’ll go with you,” Oli offers quietly. “I helped put her in that box. I need to make up for that.”

Joey gives him a long look, then nods.

Nikita waves a hand. “Well we’re down two people, so why don’t the rest of us just go get Alex and DeStorm? Safety in numbers, right? How hard could it be.”

Tyler groans. “Why did you have to jinx it?”

Oli and Joey touch their mirror and disappear in a soft flash of light. Nikita joins Andrea and Tyler at the big one.

“Here we go,” Andrea murmurs, and they brush their fingers to the glass.

The world blurs around them.

-

Joey wakes to the rancid smell of mold and dust. He chokes on it immediately, coughing loud enough to wake Oli, who’s sitting slumped over across from him on a cot, his hands chained above his head—just like Joey’s.

“What—” Oli says blearily, jerking his wrists against the shackles. Horror dawns on his face. “Oh god. Oh god, not again—”

“Oli,” Joey tries to soothe, but Oli’s beyond hearing him. His eyes get the same glassed-over look they’d gotten years ago, decades ago, in the basement if Joey’s mansion when they’d woken up chained to posts. And Joey realizes, belatedly, that Oli must not like being tied down.

“Let me out!” Oli yells, his voice hoarse and bouncing off the cold stone bricks of their prison cell. “Let me  _ out!” _

“Certainly not.”

Their heads jerk up, up to the door at the top of the stairs where a woman with a ghostly white face and dark hair stands in a regal gown and black cape. She has black horns coming out of her forehead that curl upwards in spirals, and maybe that’s why it takes Joey a second to recognize her.

_ “Sarah?” _ he asks, incredulous, because that’s his evil ass ex-maid, except she looks like Maleficent, just with a much smaller and less green face.

“I can’t have you interfering with my perfect little world, Joey,” she tells him, voice double, triple-layered.

_ "Your _ perfect little world?" Joey echoes, indignant. "This is Justine's room, what are you doing here?"

"Justine." Sarah tilts her head, the gesture just poised enough to be condescending. "Perhaps, once upon a time, this was her afterlife. But now it's mine."

Joey vibrates with rage. "Where is she?"

"You'll never find her," she says dismissively, "because you'll never leave this dungeon. Enjoy your stay, boys. I'll be back to deal with you later."

She closes the door behind her, and Joey ignores the way Oli yanks against the chains. “We’re in Sleeping Beauty,” he realizes aloud.

“What?”

“Sleeping Beauty. The movie. It all fits—I’m Prince Phillip, we’ve been captured by Maleficent, and now we need to escape.”

Oli trembles, trying to get his panic under control. After a moment he says, his voice carefully still, “I’ve never seen the movie.”

“Well that’s just not right,” Joey huffs. “Don’t you have Disney in England?”

“Of course we do,” Oli snaps back. “I just didn’t spend my childhood watching princess movies.”

“God, you’re so straight.”

Oli rolls his eyes, but he’s relaxing, and Joey smiles to himself. He’s too used to being restrained to be bothered by it anymore, but Oli’s never liked feeling crowded even without the chains and shackles. 

“So,” says the Brit slowly, “if this is like the movie, what do we have to do next?”

“Uh,” Joey says. “Well, we’re supposed to be rescued by fairies, but I don’t know if that’s happening.”

“Fairies. Right.” Oli frowns, looking at his own medieval getup. “If you’re the prince, who am I?”

“I don’t know. Prince Phillip is the only one in this scene.” Joey surveys his outfit. “Maybe you’re like my loyal knight or something?”

“Why do you get to be the prince?” Oli complains, pulling at his chains again.

“Because Justine’s my best friend,” Joey says, exasperated. “And we have to save her, so come on, think—this is all a game to him, so there has to be a way out of here!”

Oli starts to feel under the bench he's sitting on, stretching as far as his chains will allow, and comes up with a key. He inspects it. "Think this goes to the shackles," he says. "Doesn't look like the room's key." He tries to fit it in his shackles and curses. "Not mine. Yours?"

Joey has retrieved the key from under his own bench. "Knowing this game, probably. If I toss this to you, will you catch it?"

"Whose hand-eye coordination is better, yours or mine?"

"Probably yours," Joey admits, remembering his inability to toss a beanbag with his foot.

"All right then, go ahead."

Still Joey hesitates, knowing damn well they only have two shots at this. If he misses, and Oli misses, that's it—unless the fairies are gonna make a timely entrance, which he's starting to doubt.

To hell with it. Joey steadies himself with a breath and tosses the key, overhanded, in a slow arc in Oli's direction.

Oli catches it with ease. Show off. 

He slips the key into his shackles and mutters a prayer of thanks when it clicks open, hurrying to unlock his other wrist and then Joey's with his key.

Finally free, the two Leywalkers approach the door. Joey tries the handle. "Locked," he says with a sigh.

Oli peers through the window at the top of the door. "It's quiet out there," he reports, before turning his attention to the wood. "This stuff is rotting, I could probably—"

He doesn't finish, merely fitting his hands in the spaces between the bars in the window and heaving backwards. The door creaks,  _ loud _ in the silence, moans and groans and pops clean off the hinges.

Oli shakes his head, putting it aside. "Terrible design for a dungeon."

"Seriously though," Joey agrees. "Come on, we need to find Justine."

The castle is eerily empty as they make their way through it. It's in ruins, just like in the movie, but Joey distinctly remembers there being, like, dozens of goblins hiding in every crevasse. Where are the guards? Where's the angry raven that sounded the alarm of Prince Phillip's escape?

As soon as he has the thought, there comes an angry shriek from Malefi-Sarah that sounds downright inhuman. The two whip their heads towards the tallest tower in the castle, where she glowers at them with glowing yellow eyes. That's odd, it looks weirdly familiar, but Joey can't place why.

"I won't have you wrecking my happily ever after!" screams Sarah, her pretty features darkening and twisting as shadows seem to come alive, stretching from her jagged fingers towards the castle in the distance and erecting a forest of thorns.

Ah. That fits the script.

Oli and Joey race down the steps and flee into the courtyard. There, roped to the stone fountain, is a beautiful white horse. On his back is the sword and shield from the movie, exact replicas down to the gold cross in the center of the shield.

Joey starts clapping, despite the situation. "This is just like the movie!"

"Joey, focus!"

"I am focusing! We can kill her with this!" 

Oli pauses, frowning, as the horse whinnies and dances away from Joey. He holds out a steadying hand. "It's all right, mate," he soothes the horse. "We do need your help getting out of here, though, can you do that for us?"

The sky overhead is swirling in bruises of black, purple, and blue, and Joey stares at Oli like he's lost his mind. "Are you—talking to the horse?"

"You can't hear him?"

"Hear him—no! Is that an earth power?"

Oli just shrugs, directing his attention to the horse. "He can't take both of us," he tells Joey. "Leave me the sword and shield. I'll fight Sarah."

"Are you crazy!"

"We don't have time, Joey," Oli says firmly, ever-patient, locking eyes with his friend. 

And Joey wants to argue. Because he knows how this goes. Sarah will turn into a  _ dragon,  _ and without fairies Oli doesn't have a prayer.

But somewhere in a tower behind a wall of thorns is Justine, his best friend, one of many he'd failed in the past three years, and Oli has magic of his own. He has to trust him, because he's right. They don't have time.

He closes his mouth instead and nods, thinking it's time he's learned to listen, and follow, instead of leading his friends into death and danger. He won't do it again. He can't.

Oli takes the sword and shield. Joey struggles onto the horse, who whinnies and tosses his head.

"He says hang on," Oli translates. "Oh, and that his name is Roam."

Joey grasps the reins as Sarah's body grows like a towering shadow at sunset, twisting and stretching and morphing into a monstrosity that puts his mental image of dragons to shame.

Oli doesn't flinch, so neither does Joey. 

Roam takes off towards the castle in the distance.

-

Oli breathes like he won't get the chance to in a few minutes, which is probably true.

Sarah is no longer a witch with horns but a  _ dragon _ with horns, eyes bright yellow and clashing like stars against the dark curtain of the storm. Oli breathes and settles his nerves. If he's the knight in this scenario, he'll do his duty and protect the prince long enough for Joey to get to Justine. After that, well… they'll cross that moat when they get to it.

The dragon only seems to have eyes for him, which is both good and bad. She seems to think the wall of thorns blocking the other castle off will slow Joey down. Oli has his doubts, but he can't think of them right now. Sarah is blasting white hot yellow fire in his direction.

Whatever the shield is made of, it's some strong magic, because the flame bounces off harmlessly against it when he raises it to protect his head. It's not even hot against the metal.

Realizing her flame won't be very effective, Sarah snaps at him with her jaws, and Oli takes a chance and slashes his magical sword in her direction.

He catches her on the snout and she snarls, hissing, the heat of her breath singing the hairs of his stubble just a little bit. Oli ignores it as he darts further into the thorned forest, away from Joey, determined to lead her as far from his friend as possible.

He gets as far as the forest line before alarm bells start ringing in his head, some deep buried instinct  _ screaming _ at him to turn around. Oli listens, but he's wholly unprepared for the claw to wrap around him, pinning his arms to his side as Sarah the dragon flaps her massive wings and takes to the sky.

Oli's no longer hot but  _ cold _ as the wind rushes by. His hands numb immediately and he drops the shield, cursing as it tumbles from his grasp. He tightens his hold on his sword and slashes it upwards, catching one of the gnarled fingers wrapped around him. Sarah screeches, the sound deafening this close, and drops him.

Oli plummets.

He screams with what breath he has as the ground comes rushing up to meet him. Sarah hadn't flown  _ that _ high, but a fall from such a distance will kill him, he has zero doubts.

He throws out both hands, one still grasping the sword, and  _ pulls, _ and the vines respond like they heard him. Parts of the forest shoot out and wrap around him—not restraining, just enough to catch him and slow his descent enough that they deposit him on the ground safely, letting him wobble on his feet.

He ignores the blood drawn from the thorns, patting the vines in thanks as he eyes the dragon flying over their heads.

"All right then," he murmurs. "I've got an idea."

Sarah, seeing he's shield-less, opens her mouth and spits more fire at him. Oli melts into the forest and a wall of thorns come up to protect him, the flame smashing into them instead and charring them to a crisp. Oli pushes deeper into the forest, running at a full sprint, mindful of the sword in his hand.

The vines part for him like they aren't even there, and Oli smiles to himself. Like Roam the stallion, he can hear the whispers of the forest, tainted with black magic but still  _ earth,  _ still his to move through and with. His eyes glow golden brown, just a few shades lighter than their actual color. The thorns fry as heat and flame scorch a path after him and Sarah roars, the sound shaking the world around him. 

Oli whirls, turns, weaves his way through the thorned forest, up a hill he can feel the pulse of beneath his feet as he approaches the edge of the cliff.

The earth thrums beneath him, around him, as he whirls to face the dragon. He uses his free hand to reach for her. The vines respond, spiked and vicious and curling around her form, piercing her thick, scaly hide and drawing a shriek of pain from her. They wrap around her like chains and Oli thinks with grim satisfaction that it serves her right for locking them up like she had, for everything she did during the slaughtering, everything she and her companions put them through.

The dragon crashes to the Earth, wrapped in tendrils of thorned vines, writhing and screeching in rage, heat leaking from her jaws despite the vines wiring it shut. Her yellow eyes glare balefully at Oli as he stands before her with his sword, looking between it and the dragon and back again.

_ We can kill her with this! _ That's what Joey had said. If he wanted to he could end this.

But then what? He'd be a murderer and she would be dead. Oli doesn't hate anyone, not even Sarah, and no matter how panicked he'd been waking up chained yet again in some maniac's dungeon… 

He's not a killer and he never will be. He'd come to Justine's room specifically to prove that. 

Oli drives the blade deep into the ground, in full view of Sarah's bright yellow eyes, and leaves it there, looking towards the far castle.

"Hurry, Joey."

-

They get as far as the bridge before Roam can't go any further. Joey curses leaving the sword, although it couldn't be helped—Oli needs it more than he does, after all, but now he's here where the thicket is thickest and there's no way through.

Roam dances, nervous, as Joey slides off his back. He hisses as his sleeve catches on a thorn and tears into his shoulder, and has to work to untangle himself from the bramble before patting Roam on his flank.

"I don't know if you can understand me, boy," he says, "but thanks. I couldn't have gotten this far without you."

Especially since he doesn't really know how to ride a horse, he thinks to himself.

He goes the rest of the way on foot. The thorns are gnarled and wind their way around the path. At one point his cape catches on one and he has to unclip it to keep going. Red was never his color anyway.

Why couldn't this be easy? He and Matt had had a plan, a good one shot all to pieces because the Cursed God knows they're here and forced them to play yet another game. Why the games? Why couldn't anything just be straightforward anymore? Joey's tired of puzzles. He's tired of jumping through hoops, of lying to his friends, of getting them killed. He wants Justine.

Finally, he can go no further. Joey stands in the middle of the twisted forest of thorns and grips his fists, glowering at how close he is to the castle, to his friend. But there's no way through this wall, and he can't chance going around it. He can try climbing it, but it's  _ high _ and if he falls, that's it for Joey Graceffa. Again.

He stares at the vines. A distant memory comes back to him, years ago, just after he'd gotten back from the first slaughtering, before things got bad again. Their succulents had died and neither he nor Daniel could figure out why, till a few weeks ago when Matt noticed that plants wilt around Joey if he gets too close to them.

"Energy transfer," he'd explained, eyes all alight with the promise of a new theory. "I give it, you take it."

Joey places both hands on the vines in front of him. They're just plants, he reasons with himself, feeling dirty about this for some reason. He needs them out of his way so he can get to Justine. That's the important thing. 

He closes his eyes and draws on that urge, the urge he always feels when getting too close to a person. He can feel their energy, their life force, can almost see it in his mind's eye, and he reaches out a hand and yanks it.

And just like back in Andrea's room, when he'd touch a person and knock them unconscious, he can feel the vines wither beneath his fingertips. But he isn't taking a little this time, he's taking all of it, inhaling what feels like pure oxygen. It's revitalizing, scintillating,  _ addicting— _ he wants more, way more, and drinks it in as he curls his fingers inwards, feeling the vines crumble and blow away, suddenly dust in the wind.

He opens his eyes and gasps at the sight of dead brambles ahead of him, no longer a gnarled, magnificent forest but dry and brown and no higher than his knee, lying there at his feet. Joey looks at his hands as they pulse with purple energy as the light swirls around his fingers and disappears into his skin.

Shaken, he shoves his hands into his pockets and picks his way through the dead brush. Maybe he should keep this little part of his venture to himself.

This castle is much nicer than the one he and Oli had woken up in. It's completely devoid of people—also a deviance from the movie, although Joey's used to that by now—and that gives it an eerie silence as he makes his way to the tallest tower in the keep, where he knows Justine is waiting for him. 

As he climbs the steps his heart begins to thunder at the thought of seeing his old friend again after  _ years _ of the guilt and hurt he'd carried with him. He loves Oli and Eva, but he can't forget that they'd helped put Justine in that box. Hell, they probably voted for her. And he hadn't done anything to stop it, so he's just as guilty. Will she even want to see him? Will she hate him? What is he going to do if she blames him?

There's a door at the top of the spiraling staircase. Joey breathes, trying to settle his racing heart. It doesn't matter if she hates him from now on. What matters is getting her out, so they can save the others and get out of this stupid crystal. He turns the handle and opens the door.

Justine is lying on her back in the bed beneath the window, blonde hair splayed out on the pillow as she sleeps. The gold ornate key they need to escape is around her neck.

Joey just stands there for a second, remembering all the challenges, all the games, all the collabs, all the things they did outside of Youtube videos. This is his best friend in the whole world and she could hate him in the next few minutes, but he doesn't care, he's  _ so happy _ to see her.

He approaches the bed and sits down beside her, taking one of the hands that's folded over her chest.

"I don't know if you can hear me, but it's me, Justine. It's Joey." He runs a thumb over her knuckles, his throat tightening. "I know I pretty much got you killed, but… I came back for you, Justine. I found a way to save you. And I don't know if this is gonna work, because as much as I love you, it isn't  _ like that _ but… I do love you, Justine. Please come back to me."

He takes a deep breath. Ever since he figured out the plot of this room, he'd doubted this would work, but he doesn't have a choice here. Friendship love is just as real as romantic, and he can't think of anyone he loves more as a friend than this girl right here. So he leans over and brushes his lips to her forehead, thinking,  _ I love you. I came back for you. Please come back to me. _

And at first, nothing happens. He sits back and Justine's face is still pale and still, her eyes still closed. And his heart starts to sink.

But then she inhales, just a gentle, quick breath, and her eyes flutter open and she sees Joey and she smiles at him, the expression a little sleepy.

"Hey, Joey," she murmurs, voice a little raspy. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh," Joey gets out, choked up all of a sudden, and he pulls her up into a hug, clutching her close to him. "Oh my god."

"Joey?"

"I'm just—" He cries and he isn't the least bit ashamed of it. "I am just so freakin' happy to see you."

And she brings her arms up to hug him just as hard, neither of them saying anything for a long, long time.

-

Oli meets the two of them in the courtyard of the castle, smiling when he hears them coming. Joey is explaining that he has superpowers now to a rather skeptical Justine as they approach.

"And look, Oli's here!" Joey says proudly, gesturing to the Mountain as he shifts, a bit uncomfortable with the cold way Justine looks him up and down.

"I came to apologize," he says quietly. "I'm under no illusions that you'll forgive me, but I needed to do it for my own peace of mind."

Justine sighs. "Look, I'm not going to pretend I'm not pissed about it, 'cause I am. The last thing I remember is a bunch of my  _ friends _ tossing me in a box. How am I supposed to get over that?" She softens at the flinch on his face. "But Joey's explained everything to me, and honestly, I can't say I wouldn't have done the exact same thing."

"We still shouldn't have done it," Oli says. "We should've found another way."

"Yeah, we should've," Justine agrees. "But then we'd all be dead, and you guys wouldn't have—magic? Did I hear that right?"

Oli grins. "It is kinda cool, yeah."

She chuckles. "Well, I'm not gonna lie, that is pretty freakin' awesome. But anyway, what now?"

Joey hefts the mirror he brought down from Justine's room. "Hold onto us and touch that key to the mirror."

Justine looks at him like he'd gone a little weird, and Oli smiles, feeling a little lighter now. It's not perfect, but he'd accomplished what he set out to do. It's enough, for now.

The three of them hold onto each other and watch the world melt away.

-

Shane is waiting for them when they come back to themselves. Justine gasps. "Shane!"

He catches her when she launches herself at him, laughing as he swings her around. "Didn't they tell you what's going on?"

"I didn't really believe it until I saw you," she admits. "So this is happening? We can go home?"

He gently takes the key from around her neck. "I don't wanna get anybody's hopes up, but it  _ does  _ kinda look like we're winning, doesn't it?"

Joey looks around. "We're the first ones back?"

"Yeah." Shane grows serious. "The others ran into some… complications."

Oli starts towards the large, full sized mirror. "Should we help?"

"No," he says sharply, softening a little when Oli flinches. "Sorry. No, we have to trust they'll get themselves out of it. Besides, they have help."

"Help?"

"Oh yeah." Shane grins. "They found Lauren."

-

"Your Majesty!"

King Alexander turns to see two guards pulling someone through the doors of his throne room. "What is the meaning of this?" he demands. "I was ordered not to be disturbed."

"Alex," says the prisoner, making King Alexander recoil.

"Why the familiarity, stranger?" He peers at him, not recognizing his blonde hair and dark blue eyes.

"I'm not a stranger!" There's begging in those eyes, and something in King Alexander stirs. "Alex, you have to stop this, you're all going to be killed!"

"I don't take kindly to threats," Alex says coldly. "Take him to the dungeon. I'll interrogate him later." He turns back to his maps. "We have a battle to plan."

"Alex!"

The doors slam shut behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you know I bought Sleeping Beauty for like fifteen bucks just so I could watch the last ten minutes of it and then throw out the plot
> 
> amazing
> 
> the next room is a three-parter! thanks to everyone who's joined my discord, by the way! if you haven't yet and want to, here's the link: https://discord.gg/GC2JHyZ
> 
> Up next: Tyler tries to convince a brainwashed Alex that he's not a king, but he better do it fast: there's a battle coming up, and if he and the others can't convince them to stand down, Alex, Lauren, and DeStorm are going to be caught in the crossfire.


	8. Alex Burriss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Eva reunite with the mysterious figure from Matt's dreams, while Tyler navigates a castle and runs into two very important people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings, just that it's short!

“So what’s the real reason you wanted to come with me?” Matt asks as he and Eva go down the stairs to the main entryway of the house.

“I told you—”

“I know what you told me,” he says, voice pleasant and unthreatening. “I just don’t believe it.”

Eva gives him the stink eye. “You’ve got a lot of nerve saying stuff like that.”

“I know.” His shoulders slump just a little bit, and she feels immediately bad.

“Look, Matt,” she says with a small sigh, “do you understand that you scared us? Disappearing like that? No matter how upset we were with you, the thought of losing you was worse. I never want to go through that again.”

He holds her gaze for a long moment. “I’m sorry,” he says finally. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“I know you didn’t,” she says with a laugh. “It’s not like you planned on being kidnapped.”

Matt chuckles as follows her down the rest of the stairs. “So where do you want to start?”

“We’ve already searched the first floor,” Eva muses, “or as Oli calls it, the ground floor. We could start with the basement and work our way up?”

“Something tells me we won’t be finding the key until the Cursed God wants us too,” Matt says wryly.

“Probably not,” Eva agrees. “Not if these rooms are personalized to each of us. If this is a game—”

“Which it is.”

“—then it’s probably going to be the last thing we find,” she finishes. “Still, can’t hurt to be thorough, yeah?”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Well, the basement’s this way.” Eva shudders as she leads the way. “I hate this place. I lost two friends in the basement. I watched them both die because I won.”

“I know the feeling,” Matt says quietly, following her to the door.

She throws it open and steps through…

… into a large, open meadow outside, surrounded by mountains on all sides and overlooking a cliff, gray skies stretching overhead.

Eva stops short. “What the hell?”

There’s a person standing in front of them in an ashen gray robe, their features androgynous, their black hair in dozens of little braids just hanging to their chin. They smile when the two of them step further into the meadow as the basement door vanishes behind them like it never existed.

“J,” Matt says, recognizing them.

“Matt,” they acknowledge. “Eva. Glad you could make it. We have a lot to talk about.”

-

Tyler comes back to himself standing up. The smell hits him first—a horrid stench he can’t hope to identify, it makes his eyes water and his throat close up. He coughs and leans into the alleyway wall, realizing he’s dressed in some medieval peasantry clothes. No glasses, again—it makes the world blurry but not to the point where he can’t see where he is. The sun is shining brightly in the bright blue sky, something he hasn’t seen in a while, as the hustle and bustle of early morning activity reaches his ears.

He’s in a marketplace of some kind, he realizes, looking around him. It’s the size of your typical farmer’s market, except with wooden stalls instead of tents, and it sits in the shadow of a huge castle looming overhead.

He’s alone, again, much to his dismay. He, Andrea, and Nikita had all entered the mirror, but where are the girls? Are they in the castle? Are they somewhere else entirely? They have a limited amount of time, and this room looks huge.

With luck, or maybe design of the game, they’ll all meet up again eventually, but for now he has to find Alex. Or DeStorm. But preferably Alex.

He ventures out into the marketplace, where people call to him as he passes them. All sorts of things, from fruits and meats to clothes and weapons, and Tyler politely shakes his head to all of them, wondering if he even has money to buy anything. Probably not, he guesses, patting his pockets down. Whatever he is, he’s poor as dirt.

He makes his way towards the castle, wondering what he's going to say when he sees his friend again. Tyler can't help but feel like he failed him somehow. He knows there's nothing he could've done, but watching Alex die—even if he hadn't really seen it—after everything they've been through together had broken his heart. He'd been so sure the two of them were going to make it together, or Alex would have at the very least. Tyler was a fluke. A mistake, even.

Alex should be here. It's something Tyler's always secretly thought in the safety of his own head, but always there nonetheless. And now he's the one with superpowers instead of his clearly more Gryffindor friend, and it feels… wrong.

The sun climbs high into the sky by the time he’s made his way to the gates of the castle. They’re closed off, naturally—big and black and twice as tall as he is (which, he admits, isn’t really saying much). He peers through the grate to see people walking about inside the courtyard, but no one he recognizes.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

Tyler jumps. The voice had come from his left, and out steps a girl with freckled, fair skin, light brown curly hair, and narrowed dark eyes. She’s somewhere around twenty and is dressed like he is, like a peasant, although her clothes are a bit nicer than his.

“Uh, nothing,” Tyler stammers. “Just looking.”

“Hopin’ to catch a glimpse of King Alexander?” she asks, the question sarcastic, and Tyler’s heart jumps.

“Yes!” he says too quickly, eyes wide.

“Well he’s not in there,” she says, “he’s gone to meet with King DeStorm for negotiations.”

“King DeStorm?”

“Aye, though I don’t believe they’ll get anywhere. King DeStorm wants a war, one neither of them will come back from.”

He peers at her. "You know something."

She grins, the sight almost wicked, but not quite. "I know that if they go to war, they'll die."

"How?"

"I just do."

He isn't sure he trusts that. “Do you know when they’ll be back?”

The girl glances at the sky. “Any hour now,” she says, arching an eyebrow in his direction. “Why are you so eager to see the king?”

“I’m not,” he says, flushing, wondering just who this girl is. “Anyway, thanks for your help.”

“Anytime,” he hears her say as he turns to leave. 

That was a weird exchange, he thinks as he makes his way back to the marketplace. Why had the girl been so sure the two would die if they went to war? Besides the fact that it's a  _ war, _ he'd been under the impression kings hide behind their soldiers during battles. Then again, Tyler's never claimed to be all that great at history.

It’s starting to get cold despite the clear skies, and Tyler wraps his arms around himself as he treks back to the marketplace. There he waits, politely declining vendors and turning his back on the castle guards as they make their rounds. The sun reaches its peak and then begins to dip before finally,  _ finally,  _ horns begin to blow in the distance.

People begin to gather on either side of the street as a parade of men on horses approach. Tyler pushes himself to the front of the crowd, gazing up at Alex for the first time in over a year. His friend sits high on his horse, dressed in the finest of clothes, leather armor and a dark blue cape flowing behind him. On his head sits a gold crown fit for a king, and though his posture is rigid straight, Tyler can tell just by looking that he’s tired.

The townspeople murmur as the group passes, and Tyler uses their cover to follow, weaving through the crowd after his friend.

"How go negotiations!" calls one brave soul, and the question is echoed enough for Alex to pause and turn to the people.

"They didn't," he says flatly. "We ride at sundown for battle."

Hushed whispers and shocked cries break out as Alex continues on his way. Tyler calls, "Alex!" and the king stops, turns, scans the crowd. His eyes bounce on Tyler but don't linger, and Tyler's heart sinks.

He doesn't remember him.

Apparently deciding he was hearing things, the king and his posse continue in to the castle. Tyler makes his way through the dissipating crowd to the gates just as they're closing behind them.

He presses his forehead to the metal bars. Now what?

-

This is a stupid idea.

"This is a stupid idea," Tyler mutters aloud.

Still, he's not sure how to talk to Alex one on one unless they're alone, and he has to be in the castle for that. So he positions himself beneath a window and puts both hands flat out beneath him and says a quick prayer to a god he never really believed in. And then, his irises turning a light, baby pink, he shoots a quick burst of air from his palms, enough to propel him up—too far up, shooting past the window and to the top of the tower it had been placed in.

The urge to scream is overwhelming, and even biting down on it doesn't stop the little whimper that escapes his lips as he starts to fall. Luckily, he angles himself so that he lands—a bit harder than he intended—on the roof of the tower, rolling to a stop in the center of it where, wonders of wonders, there lies a trap door.

"Okay, okay, okay," he mutters to himself, dusting himself off. "That could've gone better, but it could've gone  _ worse, _ so."

He pulls the trap door open and drops into the lavish, spacious room. It's gorgeous, the colors vibrant to the point of being an eyesore, and Tyler realizes he must be in somebody's royal bedroom.

God, he hopes it isn't Alex's, that would be  _ so _ awkward.

He makes his way out of the room and down the winding stairs. This place is huge. He's never actually been inside a castle, so he doesn't know what a typical one looks like, but it's a whole lot bigger than he imagined it would be. The walls are stone and lit only by daylight streaming through the windows. There's not a lot of people out and about, and the ones he does run into completely and utterly ignore him—probably mistaking him for a servant, with the clothes he has on. That seems like a security risk, but then again, the only way into this place is through the castle gate. Or through the roof, if you're Tyler.

Finally, after wandering for what feels like forever, he hears Alex. His friend is speaking in a commanding tone, his voice exactly as Tyler remembered it.

"We've tried negotiations," he's saying, "we've tried threats. If my brother refuses to give Lauren up, we have no choice but to go to war. Try to understand, Mortimer."

There's a rough sigh from the man he's talking to. "I understand, Your Majesty, I just—his forces surpass ours twicefold, we can't possibly hope to survive a battle with him."

"Then we'll use subterfuge."

"Hey!"

Tyler jumps, whirling, to see two guards headed his way.

"Who are you?" one of them demands. "Why are you spying on the king?"

"Spying," Tyler sputters, "I wasn't spying, I was—uh—"

"Seize him," says the other, and the two latch themselves onto Tyler's arms and drag him through the door.

"Your Majesty!"

The room is actually the throne room, big and grand and empty save for the two men. One is Alex, crownless and capeless, now just looking like normal, everyday royalty. The other is a ridiculously handsome man with long dark curls and a chiseled face, dressed in light armor, a sword at his hip.

Alex turns. "What is the meaning of this?" he demands. "I was ordered not to be disturbed."

"Alex," Tyler breathes.

His friend narrows his eyes at him. "Why the familiarity, stranger?"

Tyler's heart breaks. "I'm not a stranger! Alex, you have to stop this, you're all going to be killed!"

"I don't take kindly to threats," Alex says, hardening in both voice and posture.. "Take him to the dungeon. I'll interrogate him later." He turns back to his maps. "We have a battle to plan."

The two guards start to drag him backwards. Tyler fights them, everything in him screaming to get to his friend. "Alex!"

Alex ignores him, but his companion looks at him curiously. 

The doors slam shut behind them.

-

Dungeons are cold.

No one told Tyler this. He supposes that makes sense considering—there's no light down here, no thermostat, just dim torches on the outside of his cell. He sits on the cot impatiently, tapping his foot. It feels like he's been down here for hours. The only reason he hasn't tried to escape yet is because Alex promised to come down and talk to him.

Well, interrogate. Same thing.

There's a guard posted at his cell door. Tyler's tried talking to him, but he mostly speaks in grunts and threats. Aside from attempting to converse with a Neanderthal, there's nothing else left to do but wait.

He hopes Andrea's having better luck.

Finally, after what feels like days but couldn't have been more than an hour, someone comes down the long dungeon hallway. Tyler shoots to his feet. "Alex?"

"Sorry to disappoint," says the man who'd been in the throne room with Alex, his voice dry. He dismisses the guard and stops in front of the cell, the bars separating them. "My name is Mortimer. I'm the royal advisor. I've come to ask why you snuck into the castle."

Tyler slumps, disappointed, back onto the cot. For a second he debates telling him to fuck off, but Mortimer has an open, earnest, and annoyingly pretty face. Besides, this is back when people believed in wizards. Maybe he'll believe him.

So he leans forward. "This is going to sound crazy."

"I know crazy," Mortimer says good-naturedly.

"I'm from another world. A world where Alex is my friend, and not a king."

Mortimer stares at him.

Tyler sighs. "DeStorm, too. I came with two others to get them both home. More than that, I think that something is going to happen when the two go to battle, something neither of them will survive."

"Why do you think that?"

He hesitates. He can't just say "some girl I've never met told me." That sounds ridiculous. "Just a feeling," he says finally, hedging around the truth. "Alex and DeStorm don't have the best history, not back where I'm from."

"Where you're from," Mortimer says, clearly unimpressed. "Tell me, what do you know of the brothers in this world?"

Tyler frowns. "Brothers?"

"Yes, Kings Alexander and DeStorm of Victoria."

Tyler shakes his head. "Wait, they're related? Like… by blood?"

Mortimer gives him a disgusted look. "Of course not. They were both born through magic, Alexander through bronze and DeStorm through obsidian. Their mother had... difficulty bearing sons, so they went to the crown wizard and birthed twin princes that way. Since they were born at the same time to the same family, Victoria was split down the middle for them both to rule."

Tyler tries to wrap his head around that. "So… why are they fighting now?"

"A maiden," Mortimer says solemnly. "Alexander's beloved, Lauren, went missing months ago. He believes DeStorm took her out of jealousy to become his own wife."

_ "What?" _

Mortimer shifts, looking around to make sure they're alone. "There has been rivalry between them for as long as I can remember," he admits. "It isn't beneath DeStorm to take what he knows Alex loves most. But what you said in the throne room caught my attention. This won't be resolved with war. They'll only succeed in destroying the other. If the brothers go to war, the only people who will suffer is the kingdom. And we can't have that."

"So…" Tyler rubs his eyes and wishes he had his glasses. "How do we stop it?"

Mortimer thinks. "I will talk to the king," he says finally. "I don't think he'll listen, but he may come down to speak to you personally, if you tell me something you know about him that no one else knows."

"He's ticklish on his neck right behind his left ear," Tyler says immediately.

Mortimer gives him a strange look, before nodding. "I will return," he says. "Don't go anywhere."

He begins to stand, only to give a small cry as someone hits him in the back of the head. Mortimer collapses to his knees, slumping to the floor, and Tyler gives a panicked little shriek as the person who hit him approaches the cell door.

"Sorry, pretty boy," says the girl from outside the castle, dressed now as a knight, armor and all, tossing the unlit torch to the side. "He's coming with me."

-

"Where are we going?" Tyler demands as the girl leads him by the wrist through the castle hallways.

"Takin' you back to the Captain," she says curtly. "You know something more than what you're sayin', and I got a feeling the Captain is gonna wanna talk to you."

"I can't leave!" Tyler protests, trying and failing to yank his wrist from her grip. "I have to get Alex!"

"The king won't be far behind," the girl sneers. "Not if he wants to get his beloved Lauren back safe and sound."

Tyler nearly pulls them both to a stop, but the girl is  _ strong _ and has no issues pulling him along, dragging his heels through the dirt. "You know where Lauren is?" he breathes.

"Aye, and I'll take you to her if you want," she says cordially as they exit the dungeon tunnels to find themselves spit out outside the castle walls, where a horse is waiting patiently, saddled and ready.

"Oh no," says Tyler, already sick of horses.

"Up you go," she says.

Tyler debates using his powers and going back to the probably concussed Mortimer. He doesn't know this girl. She has cryptic messages and a weird accent that's somewhere between American, English, and Irish. She's stronger than she looks and Tyler can't explain it, but he trusts her.

He sighs. "I want answers," he earns her as he gets on the horse. "Number one being, just who the hell are you?"

The girl slides onto the horse behind him. "My name's Connie," she says, a small grin on her face as she takes the reins in front of him. "I'm a Leywalker, like you."

The sound of alerted guards filters back to them from inside the dungeon. As Tyler gapes, Connie digs her heels into the horse's sides, and they take off at a canter down the hillside behind the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the late update! I forgot yesterday was Halloween and the timing was terrible 😩
> 
> also apologies for such a short chapter, but I decided to split this room into three parts bc otherwise it would be like a 10k long chapter and I don't think any of us would survive that lmao
> 
> Up next: Matt and Eva get some bad news. also, Andrea and Lauren reconnect, and not necessarily in a good way...


	9. Lauren Riihimaki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Eva get very little answers, and Andrea has (gay) panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings except that it's a short filler chapter, apologies!

"It's good to meet you," J says to Eva with a smile.

Eva eyes them. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Yeah," they say, amused by the scrutiny, "and I've seen a lot about you. Headstrong, passionate, protective Eva. We're a lot alike, you and I."

Eva sends a bewildered glance to Matt, who shrugs. "You get used to it," he says.

J tilts their head. "Walk with me."

They don't have much choice. The door disappeared behind them, making them essentially prisoners in this place.

Eva doesn't hide her wariness of the—person? Entity? Whichever. Matt had said they'd been fond of Iridessa, treating her with the same kindness they'd treated him, and Eva can't imagine that anyone that impartial to someone who tried to murder her friend could be considered safe.

As if reading her mind, J says, "Relax, Eva. I'll have you returned to your friends soon. But you came here for a reason, didn't you?"

"Here as in the crystal or here as in the basement?" Matt asks.

J gives a mischievous little grin and doesn't answer.

They're led to the base of the mountain, walking along the jagged cliffside until they reach the mouth of a cave. Inside is dark, lit only by torches, the tunnel going too far back for Eva to see.

She looks at J. "What is this?"

"What you're looking for."

Matt watches them, equally cautious. Good, he's learning. "We're looking for Shane's key," he clarifies. "Are we going to find it in there?"

"I guess you'll find out, huh?"

"J," he says, exasperated, and they sigh.

"Listen, Matthew," they say, and Eva jolts at the use of his full name. "There are rules to this sort of thing. Give and take. I'm not even supposed to be here, but this game was rigged from the get-go, and I'm not in the habit of standing by and watching anyway."

Matt stares back at them. "This isn't a  game, J, people's lives are at stake."

"It is a game," they say firmly. "And the sooner you figure out what you're willing to lose, the better chance you'll have at winning it."

"Willing to lose?" Eva interrupts, setting her jaw. "What do you mean by that?"

"You especially, Eva," they tell her, sticking their hands in the pockets of their robe. "The Cursed God will find a way to exploit your inability to let go. And your reliance on your intelligence, Matthew. He knows and he will use it to his advantage. I told you, this is a game to him. You have to play by the rules." They smile. "But that doesn't mean you can't bend them every once in a while."

They nod towards the cave. "What you're looking for, you'll find in there. You define what that is. That's all I can give you."

Eva and Matt look at each other. This doesn't make any sense. Eva wants to fight it, or yell, or turn around and go home. But Matt's eyes spark with curiosity and inherent trust, telling her exactly what he's thinking. He wants to go in, but will wait for her decision.

And hell, she can't deny him this, not when they're so close. She rolls her eyes and Matt grins, knowing he won.

They step into the cave.

Andrea comes back to a sword to her throat.

She doesn’t know what’s happening. She can't sense Tyler or Nikita. There's a knight, full armor and all, standing in front of her and directing a sword to her face. She can't see their expression from behind the helmet, but she can see wisps of suspicion drifting blue off of their shoulders—and something else, something curious. It takes Andrea a second to understand what she's looking at.

It's Joey's deep, vibrant purple aura, except instead of the knight being soaked in it, they only have a faint glow clinging to their body.

Andrea frowns. "Joey?"

The knight, using one hand, takes off their helmet. Dusty brown curly hair spills onto her shoulders, not quite hiding a thin scar streaking across her forehead, and dark eyes glower suspiciously from her round, freckled face.

Andrea blushes. Hard. "Oh." It comes out as a squeak. "Not Joey."

"Connie!" snaps a voice, an achingly familiar voice. "I said not to hurt her!"

The sword is lowered from Andrea's throat and she takes a short, gasping breath at how close she could've come to being skewered like barbecue chicken. "Aye, Captain," says the knight, backing away.

Andrea looks around. She's standing in what looks almost like a tent, but not quite. It's much bigger for one thing, and has an open flap at the entrance where—

"Oh my god, Lauren," she blurts as her friend strides towards her, a very neutral expression on her face, long blonde hair braided over one shoulder. She's wearing armor, too, although hers is more leather than metal and she has a dark purple cape attached to her shoulders and a sword sheathed at her side. Andrea flushes a little. Apparently she has a thing for girls with swords. Who knew?

"Andrea," she says, with a small acknowledging tilt of her head. "Weird seeing you here. Did you bust out of your room too?"

"What?"

Lauren pulls a key on a string around her neck out from under her shirt. "I figured out how to escape my vampire hell with the help of this thing. Long story, but I saw Alex in a mirror and just kinda slipped right through." She drops it back to her chest and narrows her eyes at Andrea. "But if you don't have one yourself, then how did you get here?"

"Oh man." Andrea scratches the back of her neck, unsure if they have time for the full explanation. "Uh, cliff notes version, I guess? I'm not dead. Technically neither are you. We're in a kind of limbo and I'm here to rescue you."

"That's sweet," Lauren says dryly. "You're a little late, though. I rescued myself. Although if you want to help me get Alex out of here, I won't say no."

Andrea winces. "Yeah, about that—DeStorm's in here too."

Lauren stares at her. "I know."

"You know?"

She sighs. "You'd better sit. We have some explaining to do."

"Captain?" asks the knight, Connie.

Lauren waves her off. "I'll be fine, Connie. Go get Tyler, bring him back here."

"Aye, Captain." And she disappears outside the tent.

"You know where Tyler is?"

Lauren nods, leading her over to the table, where maps and plans are drawn out. "Connie ran into him in the marketplace, came back to report that he seems interested in the castle. We found you a little after she came back, and I put the pieces together."

That makes sense. Andrea arches an eyebrow in her direction. "So, uh, Captain, huh?"

"Apparently." Lauren smiles, finally, just a little bit, as she and Andrea sit in the chairs at the table. "That's what I was going to say. Back in my room, everyone thought I was some poor bride of Dracula or something. But when I got here, they gave me a sword and called me Captain. Took me a second to figure out what was going on, and who I was supposed to be. I think the room melds the memories of people so that they believe they are their roles, so even though I'm new, they all think I'm this captain of a rebel guard, trying to retake the kingdom of Victoria."

"That's…" Andrea's first instinct is to say  cool, and she swallows the word before she could say it. "Fascinating," she finishes.

"Isn't it?"

"So you know what's going on in this room, then?"

"Yeah," she says, leaning forward. "Apparently Alex and DeStorm believe they're brothers, born from magic, and they joint-rule over the kingdom. But apparently I went missing and Alex blames DeStorm for it, and now they're going to war."

Andrea tries to wrap her head around that. "So why don't you just go and show Alex you're not missing?"

"Because I haven't found his key yet," she says, leaning forward. "If I can find his key we can get out of here, ditch DeStorm, and go somewhere else. But I've been here for weeks now and I still haven't found it. I think he has it on him." She sits back. "Besides, I lead a rebellion. I can't just abandon these people."

Andrea purses her lips before she says something she'll regret. Instead she says, "Well I'm here to help, and Tyler and Nikita too."

Lauren frowns. "Nikita?"

"Nikita Dragun. She's a beauty guru."

"No, I know who she is, but why is she here?"

"Oh, that's a long story," Andrea sighs. "Basically, after our slaughtering there was another one. She and MatPat, the Game Theory guy, survived. Now we all have superpowers. And the world might be ending. Oh yeah, that's another thing, and you're not gonna like this…"

She explains that to save everyone they have to  have everyone, and that they're on a deadline they can't track while they're in other people's rooms. Lauren's face darkens at the news.

"So you're saying we need to save DeStorm, too."

Andrea grimaces. "Unfortunately, yes."

"He killed me, Andrea."

"I know, I was there."

"Yeah, you were there," Lauren says, sarcasm thick in her voice. "You saw how everyone turned on me. You probably voted for me, just like they did, huh?"

Andrea bristles. "Actually, I voted for DeStorm. I didn't think you did anything wrong, but even if I had, that's in the past now. My friends and I are trying to save you, Lauren. Are you going to let us?"

Lauren stares her down for a long moment, and then she sighs, the tension draining from the tent.

"Superpowers, huh?" she says, and Andrea grins.

Lauren's plan isn't much of a plan, to be honest.

"DeStorm keeps his key on him at all times," she says, pointing to the marker that indicates the former Railroad Tycoon. "Connie's my second, she gathers information on them, but she's never gotten close enough to Alex to see where he keeps his key. We have to assume it's on him, too."

"So you, what, lure them into battle?" Andrea says incredulously. "Then what?"

Lauren shrugs. "My original plan was to just grab Alex and run while everyone was fighting. But if we need DeStorm for us all to get out of here, that won't work."

Andrea doesn't want to say it probably wouldn't have worked regardless. Then again, Lauren is the DIY Queen, she has no doubt that her plan is more complex than she's letting on.

"So, new plan," she guesses, and Lauren nods.

"New plan."

"Captain!"

It's Connie, with Tyler in tow. Andrea felt him enter her field of sensing about five minutes ago, and it's a relief to see him again—albeit being dragged by the elbow into the tent, Connie unceremoniously throwing him in.

"Found him," she says, as Tyler harrumphs and straightens his cuffs.

"Oh thank god," he says upon seeing Andrea and Lauren. "Three birds with one stone."

"If we can get them out of here," Andrea says, voice grim.

"Andrea, did you know this girl is a Leywalker?" He points at Connie.

She crosses her arms over her armored chest. "Was a Leywalker," she says with a wry twist of her lips. "I'm dead now, as you can see."

Andrea understands then. "You used to be the Scythe. Death. That's why your aura is like Joey's."

Lauren looks over sharply at that. "Joey's?"

"Yeah, all the survivors have magic, including him." She makes a face. "That's… a long, long story."

Connie looks amused at the proceedings. "Aye," she says, "I used to be the Scythe. Death and I had an… interesting relationship. Before I got myself trapped in this bloody crystal, I was part of the Society Against Evil. Was supposed to be the first of a new generation of Leywalkers, that's what she told me, but obviously it didn't work out that way."

"Who told you?" Tyler pipes up. "Iridessa?"

Connie rolls her eyes. "That old hag? No, of course not. Death told me."

"Death told you," Andrea repeats.

"Aye? You got cotton in your ears or something?"

Tyler rubs his eyes. "You're saying the leyline talked to you?"

Connie looks between the two of them. "They don't talk to you?"

"Not that I've ever heard," Andrea says.

Connie looks puzzled. "She told me it was tradition. They personify themselves so they can guide their conduits. It's been like that for centuries."

"When did you—" Andrea cuts herself off, flushing a little. "When did you die?"

The knight shrugs. "'50."

"1950s?"

"Aye."

Tyler understands what Andrea's getting at. "She said the leylines were drying up."

"They might not be powerful enough to have personifications anymore," Andrea muses.

Tyler looks at her. "Do you still have magic?"

She shakes her head. "Not much, anyway. But I know this place pretty well. I wove my way through a bunch of different rooms till I got to this one."

"Why'd you stay?"

She shrugs. "I like bein' a knight."

Andrea clenches her teeth before she can blurt that she likes her as a knight, too. Blushing, she turns to Lauren. "So what now?"

She peers through the tent flap up at the sky. "We don't have a lot of time," she murmurs. "The battle's at sunrise tomorrow morning, but I'm betting they'll send strike teams in during the night to assassinate the other."

Tyler frowns. "Why? That seems… like cheating."

"It's tradition." She grimaces, bringing a hand to her head. "This room is trying to make me a part of it, feeding me memories that aren't mine."

"We'd better hurry then," Andrea mutters. "Where is this battle taking place?"

"About five or so miles from here, in the valley. It's no-man's-land in the kingdom. The brothers grew up having fake battles out there. Now they'll have a real one."

"They won't survive it," Connie says quietly.

Andrea sees the purple clinging to her shoulders and knows that she's right. "Then we have to find a way to stop them."

Lauren nods. "I'll go in, in full armor, and separate Alex from everyone else. You guys get DeStorm. We meet up back here and let everyone else duke it out."

Tyler stares at her. "That's a terrible plan."

"That's what I said," Andrea sighs.

Lauren rolls her eyes. "Just trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?"

She ignores Tyler. "If Alex doesn't have his key on him, we'll keep them here at the camp and send you guys to infiltrate the castle."

"What about Nikita?" Andrea asks.

Lauren frowns. "I forgot about her. Do you know where she is?"

Andrea and Tyler exchange glances. "If this is anything like the last room we were in," Andrea says, "she's probably with DeStorm."

Lauren looks to Connie. "Find her."

Connie nods. "Aye, Captain." She turns on her heel and leaves the tent.

"We didn't even tell her what she looks like," Tyler laments.

Lauren smiles. "Nikita's hard to miss."

"Amen to that," he says, with feeling.

Andrea touches his elbow. "Did you see Alex?"

He sobers. "Yeah. Talked to him, even. He doesn't remember me."

"He will," Lauren says. "We'll get him to remember. And then we'll get out of there."

She stands. "Come on. Connie knows to meet us at the battlegrounds. We'll have to hide before they get there, so they don't know we're coming."

Andrea follows her out of the tent flat, Tyler trailing behind. The encampment is pretty big, although she doesn't really know how to gauge sizes of rebel factions. Armored knights walk around, all female, their helmets tucked under their arms as they nod a hello to their captain and eye Tyler suspiciously.

Tyler leans towards Lauren. "Am I in trouble 'cause I'm a guy?"

"You're gay, you're fine."

"Oh, thank god."

"What is the rebellion, anyway?" Andrea asks as the sun begins to set. "What are you guys rebelling against?"

"These are abused wives and daughters and women rejected from society," Lauren says, hardening as she strides towards what passes for stables in the camp. "Connie—well, before I knew she was one of you, anyway—tried out for the royal guard and they laughed at her. It's the Women's Rights Movement but centuries ahead of schedule."

"What are you planning on doing?"

Lauren nods to the knights they pass. "They want to take over the kingdom and make it a matriarchy," she says in a low voice. "The bearing of the princes through magic was… kind of the last straw. The queen had no issues bearing daughters, you see." Her face darkens. "But the king killed them all because they weren't men."

"That's awful," Tyler says softly.

"That's the time period, I guess." She runs a hand along the flank of the horse they stopped next to. "You know how to ride a horse?"

Andrea eyes it with trepidation, but Tyler sighs. "I'm getting better at it," he admits.

Lauren smiles. "Then let's ride."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some answers and more questions! sorry for the filler but it's necessary to set up the next chap--which will be much more eventful, promise ☺️
> 
> Up next: Matt and Eva play a game, and Nikita teaches people not to mess with dragons.


	10. DeStorm Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikita is a badass for six thousand words. that's it, that's the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small warnings for blood towards the end, not sure if that needs a TW but willing to point it out bc icky
> 
> also language warning because come on. it's Nikita.

The cave smells like dirt and salt and smoke. The torches flicker off the walls in eerie patterns. Eva steps closer to Matt, unsure if she’s seeking his comfort or offering her own. Maybe both, she decides, as the shadows climb inwards the further down they go.

Matt seems unbothered, more curious than anything, although the fact that he isn’t nervous chattering the way he does when he’s trying to solve a problem out loud is concerning. Whatever he’s worried about, it’s internal.

“What do you know about J?” she finds herself asking, just to break the suffocating silence.

He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “Some omniscient being with a vested interest in Leywalkers?” He frowns. “Iridessa knew exactly who they were, so I’m guessing they’ve appeared to Leywalkers before. I would’ve guessed they were some personification of the life leyline itself, but they showed themselves to you, so that’s a little confusing.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?”

He shoots her a glance, but decides not to ask how she’d known he was fretting. “No,” he says slowly, “not really. It’s what they said about this being a game.”

“Figuring out what we’re willing to lose in order to win,” Eva guesses, and he nods.

“Winning,” he says, “is a relative term. Especially in war. It’s the general consensus that you win a war when the other side concedes.”

“But?”

“But,” he sighs, “that’s not how history remembers it. History defines winning a war by who has the least casualties. No one thinks about the fact that there are  _ always _ casualties.”

“We’re gonna win this.”

He purses his lips. “But what will we lose?”

Eva feels unbearably cold despite the heat from the torches. She pulls Matt to a stop in the middle of the tunnel. “I’m not willing to lose anyone to this,” she says fiercely.

“I don’t think we have a choice, Eva,” he says, voice quiet. “Iridessa was one thing but this is a  _ god, _ a god who thrives on chaos and destruction, and we’ve fallen right into his trap. The second he gets released it’s over. We don’t know what we’re doing. The only reason we even have a chance is because he’s  _ bored.” _

“Then we take advantage of that,” she tells him, almost orders. “We capitalize on the fact that he’ll underestimate us, we kick his sanctimonious ass, and we don’t lose  _ anyone. _ No one. Do you understand, Matt?”

Matt gazes back at her, his expression unreadable. But he must’ve thought of something, or someone, because he nods slowly, the resolve settling in his shoulders. “No one,” he echoes.

She nods once, releasing him. “Believe that,” she says. “We have the magic of the land behind us. We’re the chosen ones, Matt. We’re supposed to win.”

He smiles, the expression kind of crooked in the dancing light. “Whatever you say, fearless leader.”

Eva blinks. “I’m not—”

“You totally are.” His smile softens a little as they start walking again. “And I’d follow you anywhere.”

Heat climbs her cheeks. It has nothing to do with the torches.

They reach the end of the tunnel. It opens up into a small, circular cavern lined with rock. Before them is a pedestal about waist-height, its flat surface sporting an eight-by-eight grid with a small bowl of white stones on one of the outside corners. On the floor in front of it is the same grid on a larger scale, lit by some unnatural light that bathes the walls in bright, bluish white. At the opposite end of the cavern is a  _ colossal _ door, ornate and beautiful and towering over their heads by at least ten feet. It’s sealed completely, the edges of it glowing pale, golden yellow. The doors itself are a mixture of metal and stone, etched with swirling carvings in a language neither of them recognize and pictures that don’t make a lot of sense.

“Wow,” Matt breathes.

Eva nods, agreeing. She studies the pedestal, fingering the little white stones. “What is this?”

As she picks one of them up, the board on the floor comes to life, a large round circle appearing near the bottom left corner, closest to their feet. A little black stone appears on their pedestal in the same spot. Eva frowns, noticing that it’s placed at the intersection of two lines as opposed to inside the square.

Matt, on the other hand, lights up like the floor did. “Oh, it’s go!”

“Go?”

“Yeah, it’s this old Japanese game, kinda like chess except not at all.” He peers at the pedestal. “We’re white.”

“Speak for yourself.”

He rolls his eyes. “Funny. So, basically we try to covet the most territory. My wife and I learned this when we went to Japan, right before—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “Anyway, it’s strategy. I’m not great at it, though.”

“I am,” Eva says, narrowing her eyes. “Just tell me how it works and we’ll beat this thing together.”

Matt frowns, eyeing the huge door in front of them. “What do you think we win?”

“I don’t know,” she says, fingering the white stone and placing it on the opposite end of the black stone on the pedestal. A white circle lights up on the floor as well, and she sits back in satisfaction. “But whatever it is, it better be worth it.”

**-**

Nikita slams herself against the bars of her cell. “Let me  _ out of here!” _

No one answers, of course. She’s pretty sure she’s the only person in the whole damn dungeon. It smells like mildew down here and Nikita’s decided she’d rather fucking die than spend another second in this tiny little prison.

She’d awoken in, lo and behold, the  _ king’s personal room, _ surprising one of the servants there so badly she’d fainted. The other one had bolted for the door, shrieking for help, before Nikita could fully process just what had happened. All she knows is she’s alone, she looks amazing, and she has no idea where she is.

She’s starting to pace again, cursing her tight-ass corset and the totally un-maneuverable gown it’s attached to, wondering if she can generate a flame hot enough to melt metal, when a door opens at the end of the hallway. “Finally,” she grumbles, facing the cell door as it swings open with a loud, obnoxious  _ creeeeeak. _ In steps a man and a woman: the woman white, just over average height and sporting dark auburn hair and beady brown eyes. The man is DeStorm Power, but dressed in expensive, richly colored clothes, including a deep red cape that flows down his shoulders. Nikita eyes him, flushing a little. He’s fine, no doubt about that—fine enough that she’s debating dismissing the fact that he’s too old for her. Also the fact that he’s responsible for locking her in here.

She crosses her arms. “You going to explain what the hell is going on now?”

DeStorm arches an eyebrow at her, perfectly regal. “I should be asking you that. Care to explain why you were found in my quarters?” His voice is as rich and smooth as his attire and he speaks slow, with confidence.

“I told you,” she says, exasperated, “I  _ literally _ just woke up there. It’s not like I wanna be in this nasty ass castle—”

He cuts her off. “Are you a spy from my brother?”

“Your brother?”

“King Alexander.” The name is said with a curl of his lip, and Nikita blinks in surprise. Since when were Alex and DeStorm brothers? They look  _ nothing _ alike. 

“No,” she says slowly, trying to piece this story together when she literally has half the pieces. “Why would you think that?”

“You’re not an assassin he sent to take me out?”

“I’ll take you out, honey, but not like that.” She shakes her head. “Why would he want to assassinate you if you’re his brother?”

The woman speaks up then, sneering at her. “The vixen lies, Your Majesty.”

Nikita bares her teeth at her and is satisfied when she takes a step back.

DeStorm is studying her. “You must come from very far if you don’t know the happenings of the kingdom of Victoria,” he says.

“You have no idea.”

He nods. “There is to be a battle tomorrow. I’m about to ride for the valley. You will be joining us, as my bargaining chip.”

“As your  _ what—” _ Nikita sputters. “Bitch, he doesn’t know who I am! He won’t give a damn about me!”

“You say that,” DeStorm says easily, “but I have my doubts. Something tells me you will be useful in the coming battle.”

“Why are you  _ talking _ like that—”

“Bring her,” he orders, and just like that two guys in armor invade her little cell and grasp her by the arms. They wrestle her into chains, and Nikita resists the urge to burn this place to the ground. She still doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, where the key is, or where the others are. If DeStorm is going to this battle thing, all she knows is she needs to stick close to him. Then maybe she’ll find the others and they can blow this glorified popsicle stand. Preferably literally, to splinters.

The woman leans in close to her as she’s pulled out of the room. “The king may think you’re worth keeping around,” she hisses, “but I know your kind. You’re cute and all, but I’ll be keeping an eye on you and if you even think about stepping out of line…”

“I’d like to see you try it, bitch,” Nikita snarls, heat flushing her cheeks, and the woman skitters back a step as her eyes flash orange.

She peers suspiciously at her, then dismisses the flash as a trick of the torchlight, turning on her heel and following after her king as the group of them navigate their way out of the dungeons and to the horses.

Nikita sighs, struggling to get her rage under control. This is going to be a long ride.

**-**

She tries to get the king to talk to her, but has little success. Mostly because the woman, whose name she learns is Vera, keeps cock-blocking her. Every time she asks a question the woman raises her long, gnarled wooden staff, reminding her that she’s the king’s personal wizard and knows quite a few spells to shut her up.

Nikita ignores her, looking around at the few people surrounding her on all sides. “Is this your army? Why’s it so tiny?”

DeStorm chuckles then, actually answering, “This is only my personal guard. The army arrives at dawn.” He pauses for a moment. “My brother controls most of the land in this kingdom, but I command more troops.”

“Why are you at war, anyway?”

“The king’s brother accused him of taking his maiden.” Vera’s the one who answers, much to Nikita’s surprise. “It’s the last straw in a series of grievances from King Alexander—blaming His Majesty for the loss of his future queen, his key to the kingdom, the people turning against him—”

“Now, Vera,” DeStorm says pleasantly, “he has cause to blame me for it. After all, I did win you.”

She rolls her eyes and Nikita gags, trying to figure out if they’re flirting or not.

“Two kings to a kingdom was never supposed to work,” DeStorm continues as the horses approach the far side of a valley. “It’s for the betterment of the people that we merge.” He clenches a gloved fist around the reins of the horse he rides. “By whatever means necessary.”

“You’re going to kill your own brother?” Nikita demands, horrified.

“If that’s what it takes,” he says simply.

Jesus. The others told her that DeStorm and Alex had a rivalry, but this takes that and dials it up to eleven. These guys think they’re really family. She knows what it does to you when you kill someone you considered family.

They reach the campsite. Tents have been erected, and people are bustling about, casting glances to the other side of the valley, where another campsite is in the process of being set up. Nikita is pulled from her horse and marched to a lone tent, then chained to the center pole there. Vera sneers at her once more before leaving her alone in the tent, yanking at her shackles.

“God dammit,” she grumbles, leaning her head back to rest against the wooden pole.

Now what?

**-**

It’s nighttime when DeStorm comes in again. Nikita is sitting cross-legged, damn her modesty—the dress is long enough to cover her knees, anyway—and looks up at him as he just stands there, staring at her.

“Take a picture,” she snarks. “It’ll last longer.” 

He tilts his head. “Tell me why the way you speak is familiar to me.”

She rolls her eyes. “You won’t believe me, O Great One.”

“Your Majesty.”

“I ain’t calling you that.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Why not? It’s how you properly address a king.”

“You aren’t a king.”

“I am  _ the _ king,” he says, with so much conviction she believes it for a second.

“You’re a Youtuber,” she snaps back. “And before that you were a Viner. Back where we’re from you have a kid and a fanbase that loves you. We were fucked up when you died.”

He spreads his hands. “Clearly, none of this is accurate.”

“You died,” she insists. “So did Alex. How you two wound up in this room together is beyond me, maybe the Cursed God has some kind of fucked up sense of humor, but either way, my friends and I are here to rescue you.” She jingles the chains.  _ “This _ is a shitty way of repaying that.”

“Your friends?”

She freezes. He circles her like a stalking panther, and for the first time in a while Nikita feels a thrill of fear. “So there are more of you out there,” he muses.

“No,” she tries to argue, but she knows she slipped up. “Well, yes, probably, but I haven’t seen them around.”

“Then they’re with my brother?”

Her heart sinks. “Yeah, probably.”

He smirks at her. “So you  _ will _ be a useful bargaining chip for me.”

Nikita glares up at him. “If you think for one second you can keep me here, you’ve got another thing coming.”

DeStorm doesn’t seem very threatened. “I do hope you survive this coming battle,” he says as he heads out of the tent. “I have a feeling you and I have a lot to talk about. Guard, watch her.”

A knight in full shining armor comes in and stands in front of Nikita, holding a mace. Nikita glowers up at them, but they hold a finger to their helmet where their lips would be, and, once they’re sure they’re alone, they take their helmet off.

Long, light brown curls fall to the shoulders of the girl as she kneels in front of Nikita. “That was hot,” Nikita comments, arching an eyebrow. “Who are you?”

“Connie,” she whispers. “I’m a Leywalker, kind of. Your friends sent me to find you. Nikita, right?”

She narrows her eyes at her. “How did you know who I am?”

“You’re kind of hard to miss.” Connie reaches for her shackles and curses. “I don’t have the key to this—”

“Gimme a second.” Nikita grabs the chains in her fists and concentrates. The metal gets pleasantly warm in her palms as it begins to glow bright orange, matching her irises as they fly open, and she yanks her wrists apart to shatter the links between the manacles.

Connie gives a low whistle. “You’re good at this.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been practicing.” She shakes her hands out and then accepts Connie’s help to pull her to her feet. “Now what?”

“We get out of here.”

“Nope.” She shakes her head. “Can’t do that. Need to find the key and get DeStorm out of here first.”

The knight frowns. “He didn’t sound very willing to listen to you,” she points out.

“Then we’ll knock him out.” Nikita’s eyes glow like embers in the darkness of the tent. “I owe that guy an asskicking, anyway.”

“My orders were to get you out and bring you back to the others so we could formulate a  _ real _ plan,” Connie argues.

“Then go back,” Nikita snaps. “Tell them I ain’t done here. We only have a few hours before shit hits the fan and at the very least I need to find where the key is.”

The two girls glare at each other, Connie much taller than Nikita but the smaller girl standing nose to nose with her.

Finally Connie sighs, and starts pulling off armor. Nikita stares at her. “I don’t got any singles on me.”

“What? No, I’m giving you a disguise. You can’t go out looking like that. Now come on, strip.”

“I usually get paid for this,” Nikita grumbles, before fumbling to loosen her corset. “Do me a favor, though.”

“Aye?”

“Don’t tell the others I was in this nasty ass outfit.”

**-**

The armor is just a little too big for her, and her dress is just a little too small for Connie, but the two of them make it work. Connie refuses to leave her, which is sweet, especially since Nikita doesn’t even know the girl. “The captain would have my head,” she cites.

“Captain?”

“Your Lauren.”

Well how about that, Nikita wonders.

The campsite is quiet, few people wandering about as preparations are being made. High overhead, the moon hangs like a quarter in a black sky dotted with more stars than Nikita’s ever seen in her life. She stops for a moment, distracted by the sight, and wonders if the worlds inside this crystal are real or just make-believe. There’s magic in this one, if Vera is to be believed, but somehow the thought of these being real people with real lives strikes her.

Or, well. Unlives. Deaths. Whatever.

Connie nods her head towards a tent at the far end of the campsite. “That’s His Majesty’s tent,” she whispers, and Nikita clunks in that direction. “Where are you going?”

“To go kidnap him,” she says, like  _ duh. _

“Don’t you think it’s better to get the key first?”

“You know where it is?”

Connie hesitates for a moment too long, and Nikita growls, “If you know and you’re not telling me—”

“He keeps it on him at all times,” she admits. “I’ve been a bit of a go-between for both sides of the kingdom. I know which pocket he stores it in.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

“We still need to find King Alexander’s key.”

“So?”

_ “So, _ it’s easier to hold onto the keys than it is to hold onto people,” Connie says, raising both eyebrows at her.

Nikita purses her lips behind the helmet. She’s right, of course. 

Connie gives her a serious look. “I’ll go.”

“But—”

“You’re too loud in that armor,” she chastises. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

Nikita pouts, but Connie doesn’t see her, hurrying towards the tent. Nikita grumpily thinks that she looks better than Connie does in that dress and shifts from foot to foot, looking around. No one is paying attention to her in this suit of armor, thankfully. It was a good idea to switch outfits—she just doesn’t like it very much in here. It’s heavy AF and stuffy. And she can barely see through the little slit in the visor.

She hates this room.

Movement catches her eye. Nikita turns that way, just spotting the ends of Vera’s dark purple dress as she disappears around the corner. “Where you off to, bitch?” she murmurs, clanking quietly after her.

The journey is tedious. Vera’s quick and quiet, and Nikita is loud and clunky. She has to move much slower in order to not be detected by the wizard, and as it is she barely keeps sight of her as she navigates her way towards a copse of trees at the edge of the valley. The sky is lightening in that way that’s not quite dawn but isn’t night, either, and Nikita realizes just how far she is from the battlefield.

Vera finally stops. It takes Nikita a second to understand what she’s looking at. It’s a small cluster of tents, and a big circle of people surrounding a bonfire that climbs up higher than their heads. They’re all humming deep tones as Vera goes around throwing shit into the fire to make it grow bigger and bigger. She tucks herself behind a tree trunk a safe distance away, watching as Vera wields her staff at the crest of the circle.

“Brothers and sisters,” Vera says in her hissing little voice, “the time is upon us! Soon the brothers will tear each other apart, and we will take the thrones for ourselves!”

Nikita rolls her eyes. “Figures,” she mutters. Everyone and their sister is after this kingdom.

“In the coming hour, the two of them will be dead, their bloodlust made all that stronger by our magics,” Vera continues, raising her arms high into the air. “With the keys in our possession, we control their hatred tenfold! They won’t survive the morning!”

The crowd cheers. Nikita’s heart sinks as she spies the shiny metal objects in Vera’s hands. Keys. Two of them, ornate and old and exactly the ones she’s looking for.

So DeStorm doesn’t have his on him, then, she realizes. Things are about to go balls to the wall. Nikita quietly starts stripping the heavier parts of her armor off of her.

Vera’s still talking. “When King DeStorm realizes this is missing, he will most certainly blame his brother. They’ll be beyond reasoning, and when the time is right, that’s when we will strike.”

“Not if I can help it,” Nikita calls, stepping into the light. She cocks a hip and smirks at the surprised look on Vera’s face. “I told you to try me, bitch.”

“You,” Vera hisses.

Nikita crosses her arms. “Me. Now, why don’t you hand over those keys and I don’t have to hurt you.”

Her heart thuds in her ears. She’s mostly bluffing. Mostly. If these guys are all magical or whatever, she’s pretty much screwed. But she has a plan, more or less. She just needs to get a little bit closer to Vera.

So she struts forward, glowering at anyone who tries to step in her way. Mostly they look confused, glancing between her and Vera and back again, trying to figure out whether this tiny five-foot-four girl in half armor is a threat.

Vera’s turning red. “How dare you interrupt! Who are you!”

“I’m the Dragon, bitch,” Nikita says, narrowing her eyes as she gets right up in Vera’s face. “I’m the Leywalker of fire. And I’ll be taking those keys now.”

And, timing it just right, the bonfire behind her skyrockets high into the sky, a massive pillar of flame that makes the couple dozen people scream and start running for their lives. Nikita lunges, slamming the heel of her palm into Vera’s shocked, ugly face and snatching the keys from her slack grasp at the same time.

Easy as pie. Nikita turns and bolts for the camp.

As quickly as the fire had shot up, it burns out with nothing to sustain it, leaving it the size of a small campfire as the dead grass around it catches. Nikita races through it, inhaling deep and putting the flames out as she goes. The absolute last thing they need is a goddamn wildfire. Besides, that little display had taken a lot out of her, and she doesn’t think she can control something bigger than a lighter at the moment.

“After her!” Vera screeches.

And this is the part of the plan Nikita wasn’t so sure about. She has zero escape route plotted, and she’s a long, long way across the valley.

Hooves sound behind her and she curses, pushing herself faster, knowing damn well she can’t outrun a horse. She clenches the keys to her chest. If it comes down to it she’ll fight these bitches, and she’ll win, too. She doesn’t know how, but she’ll do it, if that’s what she has to do.

She wishes Matt was here.

“Nikita!”

There’s a whole ass second where she doesn’t recognize the voice and has a moment to wonder how those strangers knew her name before Tyler’s there in front of her, on a horse of all things. “Hurry, get on!” he urges, and Nikita doesn’t think twice before scrambling her way onto the horse behind him, curling both arms around his middle as he nudges his horse. “C’mon, Lady!” he calls, and the horse responds like he’s a pro, immediately bolting after the other riders.

Nikita recognizes her roommate among them, clinging to an armor-clad Lauren as the Prophet turns and grins at her. She laughs in stupid, giddy relief, clutching the keys and waving them. “I got the keys!” she shouts over the wind.

Lauren turns and glances behind her, narrowing her dark brown eyes at Nikita. “Where’s Connie?”

And the stricken look on her face must have been blatant because Lauren curses and urges her horse on faster, her soldiers following her like a sonic boom.

Oops.

**-**

Nikita’s never met LaurDIY in person, although she can’t say that the woman in front of her, pacing from one end of the tent to the other clad in leather armor and a dark purple cape, is at all how she’d pictured her.

Andrea and Tyler stand on Nikita’s other side, the three Leywalkers watching as Laura attempts to come up with another plan. They have  _ very _ little time now, the sun is rising any minute, but without Connie, the captain seems to be falling apart.

“We have the keys,” Tyler points out—brave, considering. Nikita wouldn’t want to be in Lauren’s way right now. “We just need Alex and DeStorm and Connie and we won’t have to worry about whatever happens after that.”

“Where would she be?” Lauren demands, whirling to Nikita. “Would he have captured her?”

“Doubt it,” she mutters, “that girl’s slippery. But where she is, I couldn’t tell you.”

“We can’t leave without her,” she says, voice a little desperate, and Andrea steps up to put a hand on her shoulder.

“We won’t,” she assures her. “I’ll find her—I can see her aura. You guys just make sure you get Alex and DeStorm to the rendezvous point.”

“In the middle of the giant battle going on?” Nikita says, incredulous.

“Yep.”

“This is a terrible idea,” she mutters, and Tyler laughs.

“We can do this.”

And those words echo in her ears as they split up again. The sun crests the far side of the mountain, bouncing off the metal of the knights who are already lined up in neat little rows on either side of the valley. DeStorm sits tall on his horse at one end, his deep red cape flowing off his shoulders as the wind whips by. Alex sits on his own horse at the other end, his cape dark blue, his crown gold to DeStorm’s silver.

Lauren’s girls—because every knight in her army is a woman, something Nikita can appreciate—sit on their own horses as they shuffle their feet, knowing this is it and the chances of survival are slim. Nikita tries to ignore the inevitability of it. They’re here for one thing and that’s to save their friends. This place isn’t real.

She has to think like that, or she’ll go crazy.

Horns blow as the sun finally rises over the mountain. Alex and DeStorm draw their swords. Behind them, their armies all yell in hoarse battlecry, and just like that they’re charging at each other.

It’s begun.

**-**

Nikita decides quickly that she ain’t got the time for this.

She’s supposed to be getting DeStorm, but has a difficult time tracking him as Lauren’s army charges into the fray. His distinctive red cape is the only thing she really has to go on, and eventually she decides enough is enough and slips off the horse she’d hitched a ride on. The rider continues on, not noticing that she’d lost a passenger, and Nikita, seeing four people trying to converge on her, holds both hands out and blasts them all in the face with flame. They back off, unhurt but startled by the suddenly magical little girl in their midst, and Nikita stalks through the warring knights with smoke trailing from her hands.

Anyone who gets near gets flame to the face, she doesn’t give a fuck. Nikita’s eyes glow marigold orange and everyone who sees it skitters back a step. A few brave souls try to step to her and Nikita flexes her fingers, igniting the brush beneath her feet into a swirling shield of flame and then pushing it outward. People scramble to get out of her way after that.

She isn’t sure exactly what’s fueling her besides some kind of deep-rooted rage she thought she’d gotten over. It burns ever bright like a bonfire in her chest, always there, always waiting for the next thing to set it off. Smoke leaks from her lips as she stalks forward, and people start whispering about dragons.

It’s going fine up until Vera steps into her path. “I knew it,” she hisses, cackling a little, “I knew we had another wizard in our midst, but did the king listen to me? No!”

“I’m a Leywalker, not a wizard,” Nikita corrects, stretching her fingers out. “Now get out of my way.”

“And let you claim this kingdom for yourself? Not happening!”

“Girl, I don’t give a fuck about the kingdom! Take the goddamn kingdom!” She tries to shove past her, but Vera raises her staff and sends a blast of bright purple energy right for her face. Nikita throws up her arms and fire swirls up into a shield to dissipate the energy before it could hurt her. Nikita lowers her arms, glowering at her. “Don’t make me do this,” she snarls. “I don’t got time to be gentle.”

Vera bares her teeth and slams the staff into the ground. The world shakes, making Nikita stumble, but she plants both hands to the ground and sends heat and flame shooting towards the wizard, causing her to shriek as her feet get burned. Her staff glows blue and pulls water from the sky, soaking the ground and putting out the fire. Nikita curses, rolling to her feet. Now the ground is useless and won’t catch. Smart bitch.

Someone yells, throwing himself between the two of them. “Vera, you traitor!”

Nikita nearly falls over as she recognizes him. “Mortimer? What the—”

“Mortimer, my dear,” says Vera, honey sweet and full of fury, “we’re in the  _ middle _ of something!”

He holds his sword out to her, grimacing. “You abandoned your king,” he growls, his dark curls hanging in his face. “You joined King DeStorm’s army and let His Majesty to think you’d  _ died _ and yet here you are, volleying for the throne as if you have any right to it.”

“I have every right!” Vera screeches. “I was the one who created those boys! I was the one who breathed their souls into them, and I can take it away just as easily!”

Nikita holds out a hand. “No the fuck you didn’t.”

She shoots a stream of flame just past Vera’s face, hitting the tree behind her and causing it to topple right onto the wizard. She screams, the sound abnormally shrill, but before she can hit the ground her entire body disappears, leaving nothing but the black cape she’d been clothed in.

Mortimer looks at Nikita with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

She grasps his hand. “A friend. Come on, I’m not leaving you here either.”

They make their way through the swarm of fighting knights. It’s almost impossible to maneuver, but between Nikita’s flame and Mortimer’s sword, they manage. Nikita finally spots DeStorm’s cape, and true to form he’s throwing everything he’s got at his “brother,” King Alexander.

The two are in the center of a large circle, no one daring to interfere in the clash between the kings. Nikita stops for a second just to watch, in awe at how the both of them handle swords. They’re both practiced and skilled, Alex more fluid than DeStorm but DeStorm far more powerful. They’re evenly matched, but that’s no surprise. If they’re really the brothers everyone claims they are, they grew up fighting together. Nikita realizes, all of a sudden and in horrifying clarity, that neither of them are going to win this. They’ll kill each other first.

Just as she thinks it, Alex gets a slice deep in DeStorm’s neck. The larger man sputters, drawing back, clutching at his neck and staining his dark fingers red.

“Alex!”

Lauren’s voice, ringing out over the crowd. It’s enough for Alex to pause for just a second. A second too long.

Nikita’s moving, but she’s still too late to stop DeStorm from sinking his blade deep into a chink in Alex’s armor. Alex falls to his knees, gasping in pain, as DeStorm lifts his sword high in the air, ready to bring it down on his brother’s head.

And then Lauren’s there, her sword up and blocking, the contact of the metal ringing across the clearing like a bell. All sound stops. Nikita, Tyler, Andrea, Connie, and Mortimer all converge on Alex, who stares up at Lauren with wide eyes and bloodied lips.

DeStorm hesitates. “Lauren,” he says.

“Lauren,” Alex whispers.

“Hang on, hang on, Your Majesty,” Mortimer says frantically. He looks up at them. “We have to do something!”

“We gotta go now,” Andrea says, “we have to get them to Matt.”

“Lauren—”

“Shut up, Alex,” she orders, not taking her eyes from DeStorm. “We’re going to talk when we get out of here, but lie still for now. Andrea?”

“I’ve got the mirror.”

“Nikita?”

“I have the keys,” Nikita says.

“Tyler?”

He leans over Alex. “I’ve got Alex.”

By the time the surrounding knights know what’s happening, DeStorm is collapsing to his knees, unable to hold his position any longer. The seven of them cling to each other as Nikita slams all three keys on the mirror Andrea holds up for her, and the world melts away.

**-**

And comes back. Nikita rocks on her feet as Tyler stands and hollers for Matt.

“He’s not here,” Joey says, wide-eyed. “He and Eva still aren’t back from looking for the key yet.”

Oli points at Connie and Mortimer. “Pick up a couple of strays?”

“Oh my god, why did you bring him here!”

Mortimer’s eyes clear. “Joey?”

Joey points at him. “He betrayed us to the Carnival Master! Nikita, why would you bring him back here?”

“You and I both know that dumbass was brainwashed,” Nikita snaps back. “I wasn’t going to leave him to the crystal, so just shut up about it. We need to get help for Alex and DeStorm.”

Andrea closes her eyes, frowning deeply. “I can’t find Matt or Eva,” she says, opening them again. “I can’t sense either of them. How is that possible? We can’t get out of this house.”

“Could they have gone through one of the mirrors after us?”

“Matt would’ve waited to tell us,” Nikita says with a frown.

Tyler is ignoring all of them, taking off Alex’s armor and pressing his hands to the blood wound in his side. “We have to stop the bleeding,” he mutters, “we have to save them.”

Nikita presses her own hands to DeStorm’s neck. Her eyes glow, soft and orange, and DeStorm sucks in a harsh breath as her hands heat up. She yanks them from his neck and he settles again, the wound more or less sealed.

“What the hell?”

“What did you do?” Andrea says, leaning over her.

“I have no idea,” Nikita says, looking at her bloodied hands.

“You cauterized it,” Connie speaks up. “You sealed the blood vessels off. How did you know to do that?”

“I didn’t,” Nikita admits, going to Alex and putting her hands on his wound. She concentrates, and when Alex thrashes beneath her she yanks her hands from his chest and watches as he settles again, both men falling into uneasy sleep.

She looks up at the huge crowd of people they’ve collected. “We need the others,” she says, voice grim. “We got a whole lot to catch up on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO PARTY PEOPLE that was a doozy huh
> 
> quick announcement! after next week I will be going on a month long hiatus from thk for the month of December to make sure I don't hit the wall, 'cause burnout's a biyatch. so that's the bad news the good news is I will still be posting! I'm going to be debuting a collection of oneshots featuring in between scenes from hil, thk, and more from the Endgame series. so if you ever wanted to see a certain chapter from someone else's pov, or wondered what was going on to other characters while I focused one, let me know in the comments! this won't be a December-only story, I'll continue it for as many requests and ideas as I get, so if I don't get around to something then don't worry, I will soon :)
> 
> Up next: now that they have half their friends back, the Seven decides to take a break to regroup.


	11. break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Eva are missing. or are they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings! just short!

The game has gone on for what feels like hours. Matt and Eva definitely linger on their turn, not knowing exactly what the stakes are for losing but unwilling to take the chance. Whoever they’re playing against has no such qualms, and mercilessly takes their stones in cold, systematic strategy.

“We need to retaliate,” Eva says in a low voice when another of their stones disappears from the board. “We’re losing our advantage here.”

Matt sighs. This is not a new argument. “We covet the territory,” he reminds her. “We’re not going to be able to capture their pieces and win the game.”

“We can’t covet territory without pieces, Matthew!”

They’re both right, really. As far as territory goes, they’re doing okay, but they’re running out of pieces to play and space to corner. If they don’t start claiming the other player’s pieces, they’re going to lose this.

He wonders if this is an allegory. It feels weirdly pointed to play an old Japanese game. Why not chess? He’s good at chess. This is a game that mimics a tug-of-war, but what they’re fighting for, he doesn’t know.

“Okay,” he says finally. “We’ll try it your way.”

“You don’t win games by playing conservative,” Eva says, moving a piece on the board for their turn. “Everyone knows that.”

He sinks to the back to let her play, watching the giant door in front of them, and hopes she’s right.

**-**

“Oh my god, Alex!”

Roi’s voice is high with stress as they all enter the ballroom, Shane carrying Alex on his back while Oli hefts DeStorm on his. Both Youtubers are unconscious, worrying them more than they want to admit.

The rescued guests all stand back to give them room to pass. Chairs and cots are set up in every corner, courtesy of Shane Dawson, so they have a place to set the two down. The crowd forms around the two, Roi front and center as he kneels next to his old friend. 

“What happened?” he demands.

“It’s a long story,” Tyler hedges.

“Tyler—”

“They stabbed each other,” Nikita says bluntly.

“Okay,” Tyler mutters, “I guess it isn’t really that long a story.”

Roi’s eyes are wide as he looks for a place to put his hands on Alex. “Where’s Matt? He can heal them like he did Teala, right?”

The Leywalkers glance at each other. “We’re not sure where he is,” Joey admits. “He and Eva went looking for the key to this room and we haven’t seen them since.”

“Well we have to do  _ something.” _ It comes from Jesse, the only one kneeling by DeStorm’s side, one hand on his unconscious friend’s shoulder. “What if they die in here? Is that it?”

“We don’t know,” Shane says, raising his voice so the crowd of Youtubers can quiet down. “Listen, we don’t know anything about this place. But we’re going to find Matt and get them help, okay?”

“Then we’ll come with you,” Jc says in the resounding silence. “This house isn’t  _ that _ big. We’ll split up and look for them together.”

Oli frowns. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he cautions.

“We’ll be fine,” he assures him. “We’ll use the buddy system. Jesse, you wanna come with?”

“Hell yeah,” says the outlaw immediately.

“I’m staying with Alex,” Roi says, eyes daring anyone to contradict him.

Teala puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll stay with you.”

He smiles at her.

Joey sighs. “All right,” he says, running a hand through his brown hair, “I guess we can split up. There are four floors so, who wants to take what?”

It’s decided that Jesse, Jc, and Oli will take the top floor; Justine, Joey, and Alison will take the second floor; Lauren, Connie, and Andrea Brooks will take the first floor; and Tyler, Andrea, and Nikita will take the basement. Mortimer decides to stay with Roi and Teala after Joey gave him the stink eye when he tried to volunteer.

“I’m watching you this time,” he hisses before they leave. “If I even think you’re going to betray us…”

He leaves the threat hanging, and Mortimer watches him go, face drawn closed.

Nikita nudges him as she passes. “Chin up, buttercup,” she says with a smirk. “You’re not the only one who almost got us all killed. Don’t go thinking you’re special.”

“He hates me,” Mortimer says, shoulders slumping.

“For now, maybe,” she agrees, “but give it time. Joey can’t hate anybody. He thinks he can, but he can’t. Too goddamn soft.”

“Tell that to Colleen,” he mutters, and her expression hardens. She leaves with Tyler and Andrea in tow, not bothering to grace that with a response.

Roi sits on his heels, looking at Mortimer. "What happened to Colleen?"

Mortimer sighs, coming over to sit with his back to the wall near DeStorm. "Honestly, Roi," he says, "I'm not sure you want to know."

He and Teala exchanged glances, a small, silent conversation occurring between the two of them before Roi rolls his eyes and concedes. Teala smiles and pats his hand in thanks.

"So you died too, huh?" she says, leaning back.

"Yep." Mortimer's voice is clipped.

"How?"

"The Carnival Master snapped my neck."

They both flinch, Roi's hand coming up to rub at his own neck. "Ouch," he mumbles.

"He was released?" Teala asks, eyes wide.

Mortimer nods. "But somehow Joey, Matt, and Nikita defeated him."

"Great," Roi and Teala say together, with simultaneous bitterness.

Teala hurries to say, "I mean, I'm glad Matt got out."

"Yeah," Roi agrees, "but Nikita—"

"Killed both of us," Teala finishes wryly. "At least, mostly Roi."

He finds her hand and squeezes it. "Well, she was super vocal about you going in, too."

"She's not so bad," Mortimer says, looking away, back towards the ballroom entrance where Nikita had disappeared. "Under all that badass angry bitch facade she's really… sad."

Teala snorts. "Sad?"

"Yeah. Especially after she killed Manny."

Shock crashes down on their shoulders. Roi and Teala stare at Mortimer in open-mouthed, stunned silence. Teala finds her voice first. "Manny? She killed Manny?"

Mortimer nods. "Shot him. Like, six times. Cried, too."

Roi and Teala look at each other, horrified. "He was her best friend," Teala says. "She would  _ never—" _

"She had to," he interrupts, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "It was her or him and she chose him." He realizes how that sounded and grimaces. "Look, she's just a kid, really, but she saved my life back there and she doesn't hold what I did against me, not like Joey does."

Roi squeezes Teala's hand. "She saved your life, too," he reminds her.

"Yeah, after she got me killed in the first place," Teala grouses, but her heart isn't in it. She can't fathom having to shoot her best friend. Plenty of faces come to mind—Eva, Sierra, even Matt she'd grown fond of in the short time she knew him—but none of them she'd be able to kill. Ever.

"Just give her time," Roi soothes. "We were all just trying to survive, you know."

"She's the one who did."

"Yeah, but she paid a price for it. At least we were together."

Teala leans her head on his shoulder, the both of them watching Alex's chest rise and fall. "Yeah," she admits quietly, "that's pretty good, considering."

Roi presses a kiss to her hair. She wonders what they're going to tell the world when they get out of here. Would Roi want to keep it a secret? Does  _ she _ want to keep it a secret? There are so many things that'll happen if they ever make it back home, so many things they can't explain. And there's the survivors, with their superpowers. Teala doesn't have the whole story, but she has an awful feeling that something big is coming.

Even when this whole thing is over, it won't really be over, will it?

**-**

“So what got you?” Jesse asks amiably as they climb the stairs to the third floor.

Jc smiles a little. “Matt did.”

“Oh?”

“Well,” he amends, “it wasn’t his fault, really. He was up against Safiya Nygaard and that girl is a beast.”

“Hey, my death was a partner challenge too,” Jesse says, voice inappropriately bright. “My partner was Tana.”

“Mongeau?”

“Yep.”

“Oof.”

“Yep.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Wasn’t her fault either. I don’t blame her none. Besides, death ain’t so bad.”

Oli listens to the conversation going on behind him, not contributing, just relishing in the oddness of it all. His friends seem to have adjusted to their deaths fairly well, considering. He wonders if he would’ve done so well, in their place. It really depends on what room he would’ve gotten, but he can’t imagine now not having his magic or his friends, or Eva.

_ Where are you? _ he calls silently into the house. No one answers.

He sighs and leads on.

“So Oli,” Jc says, teasing, “you and Eva huh?”

Oli feels heat flush up his neck. “Yeah, what of it?”

“Nothing, just not surprised,” his friend says good-naturedly. “We all thought you guys would get together sooner or later. Can’t believe it happened  _ after _ I died though.”

He tosses a glare over his shoulder. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jesse starts snickering.

“You wouldn’t shut up about her, man,” Jc says, raising his eyebrows at him. “How did it take you this long to clue in?”

Oli shakes his head. “I knew immediately.”

The two fall silent. He purses his lips, shrugging a little. “I mean,” he says, “something in me knew the whole time, but… you know. She’s  _ Eva.” _

“She’s good for you,” Jesse tells him.

“You’re good together,” Jc agrees.

His blush spreads to the tips of his ears. Oli mutters, “Yes, well,” and hurries his steps up the rest of the stairs.

Jc and Jesse exchange grins and follow him.

**-**

Justine is eyeing Alison with trepidation. “So… you’re a vampire?”

“Yeah,” she answers with a smile that shows off her fangs. “But don’t worry, I don’t drink from people.”

Joey shudders, remembering the tube draining his blood into little cups for his captors to drink from. He pushes the memory away, determined not to think of that. “Have you needed to…” He frowns, trying to find the word. “... eat? Since you died?”

“No,” she answers, opening one door in the hallway and peering inside. “Which is convenient. Animal blood isn’t nearly as appealing, and they were few and far between in Andrea’s room.”

“You can probably hit the blood banks when we get out of here,” Justine points out. Joey shoots her a look, and she says, “What? Everybody knows that. It’s Vampire Diaries 101.”

Alison looks between the two of them. “What’s a blood bank?”

“Oh, you’re gonna love the 21st century,” Joey exclaims.

As they search he explains that hospitals stock up on blood now, and the internet, and cars and planes. Alison looks skeptical but nods along, but Justine grows quiet.

Finally, when Joey goes to take a breath, she says, "How… how did everyone take it?"

Joey quiets immediately, closing his mouth with an audible click of his teeth. A long moment passes before he admits, "I don't really know, as far as what happened when we came back. We didn't really have access to the outside world."

"What do you mean?"

He sets his jaw. "They didn't believe us when we told them what happened. They kept us in the psych ward for, like, a whole week before we got the idea to just fake losing our memory. After that, well."

"My family," she whispers hoarsely.

"I couldn't face them," Joey confesses. "I just couldn't… tell them I couldn't save you."

Justine reaches out and pulls him into a hug in the middle of the hallway. "I don't blame you," she tells him, voice firm despite being full of tears. "I never did. I know you didn't vote for me, Joey, I know you would've saved me if you could've." She squeezes his neck. "I'm glad you made it out."

He buries his face in her shoulder. Never again did he think he'd get the chance to hug her like this. Suddenly he can't hold on tight enough, like if he lets go she'll disappear and this will all have been some bizarre, wonderful, temporary dream.

Justine rubs his back, smiling at Alison over his shoulder as the vampire tries to hide her own fond smile at the display. "Come on," she says, releasing him. "We gotta find Matt and Eva."

"Yeah," he says, sobering a little, and the three continue their search.

**-**

"You didn't want to stay with Alex?" Andrea Brooks asks Lauren as they and Connie search the first floor. 

Lauren shakes her head mutely. Connie frowns at her back as they peruse the kitchens for their missing friends.

"Captain—"

"We're not in that room anymore, Connie, you can call me Lauren."

"Lauren," Connie amends with the permission, "it wasn't your fault he was hurt."

"You saw him hesitate when I called him, Connie," Lauren says, words coiled with tension. "I distracted him and now he might die because of it. Again."

Connie snorts. "He won't die, Ca—Lauren, I mean. Not unless we're here long enough for it to get infected, but even then I'll know." She shakes her head. "That feeling I get, knowing when someone's about to die, it went away as soon as we came here to this room. I promise, he'll be fine."

"That's not why I'm upset," Lauren grinds out.

Andrea pipes up, a bit timid. "Then why?"

Lauren blinks, like she'd forgotten Andrea was there. She sighs, a little huff of almost inaudible air. "I was so angry with him," she says, starting slow, "for letting me die. I realize now that it wasn't his fault, but for the first—I don't even know how long I was in my own room before I came here, but I needed someone to lash out at and if it wasn't DeStorm it was him. I got over it, and decided to get out, and I came to Shane's room, and when I saw that he and DeStorm were in the same room together I freaked out and dove inside."

"You were trying to save him," Andrea figures.

Lauren nods. "But I get there, and I realize what's going on, and… I'm pissed. 'Cause they were fighting over  _ me. _ Like, I can't escape it even in death? I'm a person, not an object, you know? I'm not a prize. I just…"

"Lauren," Andrea says softly, "he loves you."

"Too much," she says with feeling. "Too much, and I don't know what to do with it."

Connie nods, understanding. "You'll figure it out," she says in her light brogue. "In the meantime though, we have to make sure they're okay."

Lauren cracks a smile. "Even DeStorm?"

"Aye, Captain," Connie says with a slight smirk. "Even DeStorm."

"Is he really that bad?" Andrea asks as they continue on.

"Well, he killed me, so I'm assuming so yeah." Lauren grumbles under her breath. "Didn't see what happened after that but with an attitude like his, I really don't think he made many friends."

"But—"

"I know," she assures her, with a small smile. "We're not the same people in the game as we are in real life."

"No," she says, looking away, "I guess we aren't."

Lauren frowns at her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Andrea muses. "I think I just owe Justine an apology."

"Justine?"

"Yeah, I—right you weren't there. I picked her to represent me in a partner challenge and…"

"Oh," Lauren says, voice hollow.

"Yeah." Andrea purses her lips. "When she came into the ballroom earlier she wouldn't even look at me. I said… some things I'm not proud of. She told me it's okay, Tim got her in the end. I told her Tim wouldn't hurt anybody and she laughed at me."

"Different people," Connie says quietly.

Andrea nods. "I'll talk to her when we get back."

"Guess we better find MatPat then," Lauren mutters, and they all leave the kitchen.

**-**

"Kitty, you need to calm down," Andrea cautions, watching smoke drift from Nikita's clenched hands as she stalks down the basement stairs.

"I'm trying," Nikita growls through grit teeth. Her eyes have a shimmer of marigold in the irises, glowing ember-orange in the darkness of the basement. She's been trying to calm herself since Mortimer dropped that bomb on her, having done a pretty decent job of being calm after learning that Matt is missing,  _ again. _ And with Eva, no less, who was supposed to keep him _ safe. _

The basement is cold and dark and has no light whatsoever. It's made largely of cobbled stone and smells like old blood and dust.

Nikita uses her brimming rage to open a hand and a little ball of flame bursts to life in her palm, curling in on itself and casting the room in a warm, orange glow. She spots torches along the wall and lights them with her flame until they can finally see in here, and then she closes her fist and extinguishes it.

"That was so cool," Tyler says, staring at her hand.

Nikita shoves it into the pocket of her jeans. "Matt taught me it."

"He taught me how to whirlwind, too," he says with a sigh. "Can't believe we're doing this again."

"He's fine."

All of them startle. Standing in the doorway, where there  _ definitely _ hadn’t been a person there, is a brown-skinned androgynous figure with ruined, shimmery wings, a gray robe, and a small smile on their lips.

They raise their hands. “I’m only here to deliver a message. Your friends are fine and will be returned to you soon.”

“Where are they?” Nikita demands, taking a step closer.

“They’re playing a game,” they say, side-stepping the question. “If they win, they’ll get something that will help you in your coming battle.”

“And if they lose?” comes from Tyler.

They tilt their head, acknowledging the question. “They’ll win.”

And in the next second they’re gone, between blinks, as if they were never there. 

"Was that J?" Tyler wonders. "They're… not exactly what I expected."

"They're not very helpful," Andrea grouses.

"Did you get anything off them?" Tyler asks her. "Are they a Leywalker?"

"I got nothing from them. Less than nothing. They don't have an aura." She gnaws her lower lip. "It's like they don't really exist."

They all look at each other, disturbed by the information.

"They said they're okay," Tyler says slowly.

"And you trust that?" Nikita sounds incredulous. "We don't know them from shit!"

"Matt does," Andrea says firmly. "Matt trusts them. If they say that they're okay and will be back soon, we just have to believe that."

She turns and makes her way out of the basement. Tyler waits for Nikita, and she rolls her eyes and snarls under her breath. But she follows them.

**-**

They all regroup in the ballroom, everyone reporting their less than stellar luck.

"We can't have searched the whole house," Joey's arguing with Oli as Nikita, Tyler, and Andrea come in. "They have to be here somewhere!"

"They're not," Tyler announces, coming over to kneel next to Alex, who's still unconscious. He looks at Roi, who shakes his head, and his heart drops to his toes.

Joey whirls on him, blue eyes blazing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means they're not here," Andrea explains. "We met J in the basement. They said that Matt and Eva are playing a game and will be back soon."

"A  _ game?" _

"Yeah, we thought it was bullshit too," Nikita grumbles from where she leans against the wall. "They basically told us to wait."

"How much longer do they have?" Lauren asks, looking at Alex and DeStorm.

"Doesn't matter," Joey says with a sigh. "We don't have much time, we have to get the others."

"Let's just finish out the hour," Oli says, glancing at the clock on the wall. "That's twenty minutes, we'll have plenty of time to get the others. Twenty minutes, Joey."

Joey clenches his jaw, not liking it anymore than the others. “Twenty minutes,” he allows. “I just hope you guys are right about this.”

“Me too,” Nikita mutters as they all sit down to wait.

-

"Another one?"

"Looks like," McBride sighs, pulling the sheet back. The young man stares through him with glassy blue eyes, lips stained blood red. His blonde hair is in a disarray. "Damn," he mutters, shaking his head. He couldn't have been more than 25.

His partner stands above him, hands on his hips as he chews on his cigar. "That's the fifth one in two months," he says lowly. "We gotta come up with something here, Jim."

"I know, Harry," says McBride, looking up at him. "But until we have a link other than these kids all look alike, we got squat."

"I don't like it, Jim," Harry mutters, spitting.

McBride closes the young man's eyes and replaces the sheet over his body. "Neither do I, Harry. Neither do I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and with that I leave for my hiatus! I'll be back January 3rd with a new chapter. in the meantime you can find me and other readers of the Endgame series over at my discord (https://discord.gg/E2EuJEn)! feel free to come say hi n share your theories n whatnot!
> 
> Up next: Oli and Eva have their hands full when they enter a noir-style murder mystery to try to recover GloZell


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